Full Circle
by BrokenRose12
Summary: Life is full of choices, some easier to make than others. What if Molly followed after Sherlock when he left John and Mary's wedding early? Could one simple decision really have such a big effect on her life? Little did she know, in that moment her future would intertwine with his in the most unexpected way.
1. Still There

**I don't own Sherlock or any of its characters. The story takes place at the end of The Sign of Three and the main paring is Sherlock and Molly, but it will have some John and Mary as well. I hope you enjoy the first chapter.**

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The sound of music circled the room as people danced, holding smiles and cheerful discussion. Molly was happy as well, John and Mary were wed a matter of hours ago and by the looks of it, enjoying the company of one another. She swayed to the melody as Tom, her fiancé, did the same. She could hear Mrs. Hudson to the right of her, laughing away at something said and Greg wasn't that far behind when it came to conversation.

The yellow dress, patterned with flowers similar in hue, was bought simply for this occasion. She found the color suiting for this event and was drawn to the bright pigment. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, the material pinning it in place matched her outfit as well. Molly always wore bright shades and designs, which in a way contrasted her line of work.

The brunette turned her head a bit, getting a glimpse of Sherlock through the crowd. A grin occupied his face, yet faded within the departure of John and his wife. Her movements slowed and her face started tilting to the side as her eyes followed him. Noticing how the man went to grab his coat and scarf, her mouth thinned out, almost as if concern was etching its way into her features.

Molly mentally debated on what to do. She should stay here with Tom but fleeing his company for that of the consulting detective; well the mere thought caused her to purse her lips. Her attachment towards Sherlock, despite the appeal she made earlier of being over him, was still there. She could sense it when he's near and feel it when her heart beats loudly against her chest. But those were the wrongs emotions to have; she was engaged and couldn't go following around the youngest Holmes like some kind of lost puppy.

She desperately tried to ignore the ongoing dispute in her mind, but that expression on his face… it was the same as before. When he though no one could see the sad look tearing down his façade, she saw it and couldn't bear to let him leave that way. It was silly to think she felt the same way about him after all this time. To even consider her affections regarding the man were still there. He was gone for two years and she moved on. She moved on with Tom.

A small breath was made, one coming out raggedly and almost a bit too loud. "I'll be right back. I have to go do something," she muttered, quickly leaving the floor without giving her boyfriend time to comprehend what she had said. In spite of her promised return, Molly was unsure if she'd even get the chance to catch up to him.

When she leaves the song is drowned out as soon as the door was closed. The night air hit her skin, sending a shiver up her spine, perhaps grabbing her jacket would have been a smart idea. He wasn't far, but a good distance was between them. His movements paused, in which she could only assume he was using his phone, maybe leaving John a message about his departure. Regardless, it gave her time to reach him.

"Sherlock," Molly lightly called out, causing the man to turn his head. His eyes were showing confusion, but he quickly replaced the puzzlement with a raised brow. Her orbs flicker down for a second before she can find her voice. "You're going already? I thought you'd stay for the rest of the party."

"Social events aren't really my thing," he states with a withdrawn tone. "Besides, shouldn't you be inside with…" He pauses, attempting to recall the male's name. It always seems to slip from his mind. His chin tilts down as it finally comes to him. "Tom?"

She can find no jealously hidden within his question and catches herself somewhat disappointed, as if she needed it one way or another to make disappearing hold some significance. But no such connotation existed. "I don't plan on being gone long. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you? And don't just say you are because-"

"You can see." His speech was held in a whisper; however, he quickly cleared his throat. "I just needed to take a walk, that's all. I don't really understand the reason for over-celebrating. It would be so much simpler if one is wed the moment the papers are signed, the whole ceremony seems rather pointless." He glances down at her, remembering she was betrothed. "Of course, if you like that sort of thing it's… fine."

Molly holds back a grin. His views were excessively straightforward and he never was a romantic, she expected no less of an answer. "If all you're doing is walking, do you mind if I join you?" What possessed her to ask, she wasn't quite sure.

He takes a few second to reply, as if searching for a response. He turns his collar up and fixes his scarf. "I see no problem having some company if you really feel compelled to come along." His gaze was fixated beyond her, as if the building they just left held more of his attention.

Without having to say anything, Molly starts strolling next to him. Being with him like this, even if it mainly consisted of silence, was nice. Those years without him were exceedingly boring. No one was there to ask her to bring out a corpse, to help with strange experiments, or to insist she should stop dating altogether. Strangely enough she missed his ill-mannered remarks. Unbeknownst to the young woman, her lips tugged upward at the memories.

"You're smiling," the detective purely states. "Either because you're remembering something amusing or you're happy because of the morale a wedding naturally creates**.**" His pace is steady, yet slow since there was no reason to rush. "Both could be accurate considering the events of today. So, which one is it?"

"To tell you the truth, I've missed this, spending time with you." She glanced up, catching the slight furrow of his forehead and quickly tries to change her sentence. "I mean having you here… because we didn't ever do things like this, you and I. You're always busy and only came to Bart's if you needed to see a body, not really to see me. Sorry, I what I meant to say was, not that you don't want to see me, you merely had other more important things to do." Forcing mouth to stay shut; her eyes closed while she repeatedly chastised herself for her silly ramble.

Sherlock's lips parted for an instant, but he said nothing for a while. Within the midst of her nervousness, she fiddled with her ring. Her action was caught by his calculating eyes. From observation, he knew what that meant. Rather than twisting it, she shifted it up and down. Generally that suggests, when with another person, they are attracted to them. It shows the desire not just to ignore the bond of upcoming marriage, but to break it off.

It's clear to him that Molly's feelings are still present, regardless of how much Tom mattered to her. In fact, he noticed her doing the same thing during his speech. However, he wouldn't bring it up. Instead of commenting on his surveillance or her jumble of words, he makes a remark about her clothing.

"That dress, you bought it three weeks ago," he utters without giving an explanation on how he knew. "You could have just worn it because it was appropriate for a wedding but there's more to it than that. You bought it because what the color represents, it had nothing to do with the style. Yellow is creative from a mental aspect, the color of new ideas. It represents a practical thinker, not a dreamer-"

He cuts himself short, recalling what happened at the Christmas party. His deduction on her gift embarrassed her, rightfully of course since he was a bit rash, and he didn't want to cause her any humiliation this time. He understood a bit better now, at least when it came to Molly, when he should or shouldn't go off analyzing her.

"You can keep going, I don't mind. I'm actually quite fond of the color." The same event is recalled, but she dismisses it. These remarks weren't horrible, nothing like that night. Maybe it was his way of complimenting? It was doubtful since he didn't seem to be the type, but she'd prefer to think it meant something even if he was simply going off on a random topic like he normally would.

He gives an odd sort of nod and tucks his hands into his pockets. "It represents someone who loves a challenge, particularly a mental challenge. It is related to the ego and our sense of self-worth, how we feel about ourselves and how we are perceived by others. Yellow is the scientist, constantly analyzing, looking at both sides before making a decision; methodical and decisive. It suits you rather well."

"I didn't know you were an expert on that too," Molly told him. "Is it something you have stored away in your… what was it John said you called it? Oh, yes, your mind palace." She couldn't suppress her interest when it came to his vast knowledge; it was something about him she always revered.

"Don't tell me you read John's trivial scribbles on his blog? He obviously didn't spend the last two years working on his writing technique," Sherlock mentioned, turning his head to the side with a slight roll.

Catching a glimpse of his profile, she faces downward, letting her brown eyes surfacing the ground. "People actually like reading about the cases you've been on. The two of you are brilliant together. It's really not surprising others want to see what you've been up to."

"They can just as easily find a newspaper," he states, waving his hand about in a flicking sort of manner. "Although, what they go on about is quite bias, ridiculous, boring, and reading anything a reporter says is basically a waste of time. They always say they're about getting the facts but we all know that's the furthest thing from the truth. It's all about the money, it always is when a job consists of being in the right place at the right time and there's the competition factor as well."

"I'm guessing you're not a big fan of the press then." She shrugs a bit, recalling some of the articles she skimmed though while he was presumed dead. "When you were away, they printed the most awful things about you. That you were fake and other nonsense such as that, but that's what you wanted, right? For everyone to believe those stories?"

"It was essential for the plan. I couldn't exactly have other's catching on, not that anyone could. Some of the theories I've heard were absurd, others were impossible to even consider." He expected people to speculate, but he never thought people, especially Anderson, to form a group. "I was keeping busy though, so it's not a total loss in my opinion."

Managing to keep her pace steady with his, she dipped her head down. "You can't really say what you were doing, can you?" Molly was certain he couldn't, but figured it couldn't hurt to ask.

"If I did Mycroft would make a big fuss about it. Always did. It's such an annoying habit." Sherlock shook his head a bit after mentioning the eldest of the two. They seemed to have a mutual feeling of trust and equal frustration towards the others actions.

She couldn't help but smile a tad again. Sometimes he didn't realize how lucky he was to have people like that in his life. She definitely wouldn't take things like that for granted. "You know it's only because he cares about you. You're his brother after all."

"Yes, yes, family and sentiments," Sherlock replied, brushing off her comment. "He's always coming around during the worst times, not to mention the fact that he thinks he's smarter than me, which he tends to mention out every so often."

"It must be nice though. I don't have any brothers or sisters. I guess you'd say I had a pretty lonely childhood." A small sigh escaped and she quickly realized what she was doing. Sherlock wouldn't be interested in knowing about how her life used to be. He had better things to do than listen to her go on and on. "I'm not exactly sure why I'm telling you these things. You probably don't want to hear about them."

"It's been my experience to let others say what they need to, whether I care or not shouldn't be equated. Friends listen to one another, do they not?" His faced angled towards her. His brows were raised in an inquisitive way as if expecting an answer, but he was only met with a look of uncertainty. In all likelihood it was due to what he said.

One part of his reply could be considered a little rude but she was more concerned on what he just addressed her as. "I thought John was your only friend." At least that's what she's heard.

"He's my best friend… evidently," Sherlock started to explain. He told Molly she counted, that he's always trusted her, wasn't that enough to make her realize she mattered to him in more to him than in an acquaintance sort of way? "I'm pretty sure you can have a number of friends, although I don't see the point in having many. My contacts don't generally exceed my homeless network." He paused, turning to face her completely. "Why do you look so surprised?"

The brunette felt her cheeks starting to flush a pink color. She hoped Sherlock wouldn't notice since the darkness should obscure his view of her expression, in spite of that she looked the other way for a moment, attempting to hide the blush and not fumbled too badly on her words. "I just thought that… never mind. It doesn't really matter."

His lips pressed together for a second as he folded his hands behind back. "Oh, come on, Molly. You can say whatever it is you want. It's just us two out here." They were pretty much alone, a few cars and cabs passed by, but other than that no one else could be seen strolling down the sidewalk like they were. Come to think of it, he didn't even have much of a destination in mind once she joined.

"Well, regardless of what you said before you asked for my help with Moriarty, which I really do appreciate, I just didn't think you saw me as anything more." At least not in the way she wanted him to. "You still called me John when we were working on that case together and like I've already mentioned, you only come by Bart's when you need something, not that I expect you to want to hang out and do things with me."

"Dinner," he quickly remarks as if he just remember something. His focus was kept straight ahead, only to glimpse over at when she became silent. Clearly, he had confused her with his sudden disruption.

Her mouth went dry for a moment. "Excuse me?" Molly's gaze quickly flickered up and down, trying to make sense of what was said. She couldn't exactly jump to any conclusion, surely he'd set things straight with his next sentence.

"You mentioned dinner when I asked you to come over." A finger was placed on his mouth and he tapped there about three times before letting his hands come back together. "I suppose that's what ordinary people do when extending a form of thanks. Apparently, I'm the only one who thinks solving a murder is more worthy. It's certainly more thrilling than the mild chatter one has when sitting across from one another."

She couldn't help but laugh a little. His ideas greatly differed from hers but she liked that about him. Something was always new and exciting when Sherlock Holmes was involved. "I was happy to help you out, but you really didn't have to thank me for what I did. Anyone would do the same."

Molly brushed her hands over her bare arms again, attempting to warm herself. She didn't even notice Sherlock slip off his coat until it was over her shoulders. He didn't say anything or make eye contact when the action was made, he simply went on talking. Her cheeks heated up a bit more as soon as the warmth and his scent flooded her system. How typical of him to do something completely abnormal and still appear as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Knowing him, it didn't mean anything other than a kind gesture on his part. She couldn't let herself think otherwise. He simply saw she was cold and let her use his jacket, it was as unpretentious as that and yet she wanted it to mean so much more.

"You're being too modest. You and I both know you're the only one who could have pulled something like that off." Sherlock momentarily paused to readjust his scarf, fixing it so it lay in place even without his trademark piece of clothing on. "I can't do everything on my own, sometimes I need help."

"You have John for that," the brunette told him. The two of them kept in contact while Sherlock was gone, but it wasn't very often that they'd see on another. He was with Mary most of the time and she was keeping herself occupied at the morgue. "Is he still going to be working cases with you? I would assume so, but he has a wife now and another job, although I heard he doesn't like it very much."

"You know him almost as well as I do, of course he'll come back. He misses the danger." Confidence was held in his reply, yet he knew he'd be seeing less of the man from this point on, which didn't settle right with him. "I don't expect him to work on every task I take, I can handle them just fine on my own. He has Mary to think about and other things to do. I might end up asking you again though."

"You know I wouldn't decline unless I was busy," Molly mentioned, turning her head to the side more. Chasing criminals and solving mysteries wasn't her thing, but being around him made her want to accept right away. "Since Tom and I are getting married in a few months…" She lets her sentence drift, recognizing how soon the date was approaching.

What if she was making a mistake? She cared about Tom, she loved him but when Sherlock's near the feelings she receives are very different, so much deeper. But it was purely one sided. Her affection and admiration towards him meant nothing if he didn't return them. It didn't even matter how many times she told people or even herself she moved on. As soon as he came back she realized there was no way she'd ever be over him. The consciousness of that stalled her feet.

A step was taken ahead of her before he noticed a break in motion. Sherlock inclined towards her, narrowing his orbs the slightest amount. Her actions exposed more than she was willing to say. "Something's obviously bothering you. Not only did you stop walking but you're staring off in the same direction for an unusual amount of time."

The sound of his deep tone brought her back. Her mouth opened and closed, the process repeated until she was able to find her voice again, only to ask him a fairly random question. "What do you think of Tom? Normally as soon as you meet the guys I was dating, you'd somewhat ridicule them right away, but you didn't do that this time. In fact I can't recall you saying much about him at all."

"I thought you didn't like me doing that? Besides, that was never my intention." Why would she suddenly ask? She has been with him for over a year now and Sherlock was sure whatever he said wouldn't change her mind about marrying the man. She deserved to be happy and if Tom was the right one for her, who was he to question her choice?

She bit down on her lips for a moment. "I don't want you to deduce him, I just want your opinion." Her hand automatically went to the jewel on her small finger again as she awaited his reply. Suddenly the ring slipped from her digit and could be heard hitting the pavement before he can answer. "My ring," she said slightly alarmed, afraid she could have damaged it.

Sherlock knelt down and picked it up, examining it for a moment prior to handing it back to her. "You don't care for it much anyways," he told her matter-of-factly, causing Molly to look at him. "You didn't want an expensive one and you tried to talk him out of buying it. You simply wear it for traditions sake, since you aren't and never have been fond of jewelry."

She shakes her head a tad. "I guess there's no point in asking how you know that." She placed the ring back on and looked at it for a moment, aware he wasn't going to answer her question. Everything he said was right though, if only he could understand how she feels about him as well as he can read others. For as long as she known him, he never showed interest in being romantically involved with anyone. A light sigh escaped soon after.

They started walking again, but this time he started traveling in the direction they came from. "Speaking of Tom, I probably kept you away from him long enough. He'll start wondering where you are if you don't return soon. Not to mention the fact that my phone has been buzzing for the last ten minutes, probably John or Mrs. Hudson."

When they were close enough to see the building again, Sherlock stopped a good few feet from the door. "You're not coming back inside, are you?" Molly asked, tilting her head about a fraction in his direction. She already knew he wasn't, seeing as he intended on leaving in the first place.

"No, I'm heading back to Baker Street. I have some things to do and apparently some texts to get back to." A brief pause was made when he looked at the structure then back to her. "Although I appall the idea of going to another," he mentioned with a slight drag on his words, but within his next sentence the ambience around them settled when he spoke in a much softer tone. "You'll have to save me a dance at your wedding."

Almost having to force her lips upward, she nodded. All she wanted to do was tell him right here and now how much she cared for him, how much he mattered, but her voice was caught in her throat. It wasn't right to say something like that; especially when she was engaged to someone and Sherlock clearly didn't see her as anything more than what he mentioned previously.

"Your coat," she quickly stated, almost forgetting she still had it on. The brunette tugged it off and passed the jacket over to him. He put it on and brought the collar up and turned to leave. "Oh, and Sherlock." He halts and glances at the young woman. "Just because John's married doesn't mean anything's going to change, completely anyway. He might not be around as often, but you'll always be friends."

It seems like she knew what was bothering him from the start. Perhaps she was able to read him more than he gave her credit for. Without saying the words he smiled his thanks. "I'll probably be stopping by Bart's tomorrow around ten. New case I'm working on," he simply tells her before going.

Molly leaned against the door, watching him for a few seconds. In spite of her want to stay with him, she returned to the party. She couldn't stop herself from wondering if she can even bring herself to go through with the ceremony. Within a few second of entering, Molly nearly bangs into someone. "Tom?" she questioned after getting a look at the man.

"I was just about to start looking for you," he told her. Taking a glimpse out of the window, he saw the famous detective walking away. He glanced back at his girlfriend with a fading smile. "You were with Sherlock?"

"We were only talking." Her reply came out meekly. She wasn't lying; all they did was discuss a few things; however she can sense something about Tom was off. The way he spoke was different than normal. "Is something wrong?"

There was a moment of silence between them where he shifted his gaze to the floor. He heard about her crush on him and thought it was gone, but after knowing they were together, he wasn't sure anymore. He didn't want to hold any mistrust, but there was something so apparently there between the two, even if it solely fell on Molly, and the clarity formed within her departure. He felt almost stupid realizing he was blind to from the very start. "That depends. What exactly does he mean to you?"

Molly felt a slight wave of tension between them and maybe a bit of jealousy underlining his tone. "Can we talk about this at home?" She couldn't get herself to actually answer the question, at least not honestly. She watched him give a stiff nod before leaving her side. With a sigh she caught up with him, getting the feeling a longer conversation concerning Sherlock was underway.

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**That ended up being longer than I expected. Please review and let me know what you think. I pretty much know what I'm doing, but feedback is always welcomed.**


	2. Every Time

**Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. I really didn't expect to get as many as I did. I would have got this chapter out sooner but I had to work on Saturday, which took up a lot of my typing time. Either way, I hope you enjoy.**

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A light rain showered the streets of London in the late morning. The icy droplets of water immediately started soaking Molly the second she left home. An umbrella was opened as she walked towards the street. She raised her arm up to catch a cab, which only took a moment to pull up. Seeing as she was running late and in no mood to talk, she didn't engross herself in conversation with the driver like she normally would; she merely told him her destination and reclined into the seat.

A few minutes passed and Bart's was in sight. The man was paid and the doctor quickly hurried inside, not bothering to open her umbrella a second time. Once within the walls of the locker room, after successfully avoiding getting stopped by any co-workers, she dried off a little, pulled her hair back, and placed her white lab coat on before getting to work.

Her footsteps echoed down the hallway, causing the building to feel empty despite the many people inside. She opened the door to the lab spotting Sherlock looking into a microscope. He didn't bother glancing up; he never really did when he was focused. Molly took a few paces inward. She was about to ask if he needed any help but he spoke before she could.

"You're usually here earlier," Sherlock simply stated. He turned the coarse adjustment knob and scribbled down a few notes. His hues continued to stay fixated on whatever he was examining, somewhat disregarding anything else around him.

She came a bit closer, taking a peek at what he wrote. His logs were messily written but understandable enough to read. "I overslept, that's all," she finally tells him. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Testing blood samples." A small huff was made and a few incoherent words escaped past his lips. Molly could only pick up a few pieces about bacteria being found within the sample and something concerning John. "Lestrade said the client wouldn't take what I told them seriously until I proved my 'hypothesis.' Waste of time really, I already know what the results will be."

The slight arrogance lining his tone never ceased to surprise her. A pair of gloves was pulled over her hands while giving her reply. "A bit smug, are you?" she questioned, turning to watch him for a second, only to twist the other way soon after. She constantly caught herself glimpsing over at him and despite being absorbed in something else, he surely felt her stare.

"I don't remember leading anyone to believe I wasn't," Sherlock told her a bit briskly. His movements were paused, picking up on the strain in her tone and the small sniffle sound she made. He angled his head towards her, observing a few things. "You're tired but you didn't oversleep." Standing up straight, his brows furrowed. "…You were crying."

She swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. It didn't matter if she denied it. Of course he'd pick up on the lie the moment he looked at her, just when she thought she could avoid any questions too. Still, she had to ask. "What makes you say that?"

A breath was taken and his hands came together. "Your pupils are dilated, which is caused by lack of sleep, but there are no bags under eyes. However, they are red, but there's no purple tint signifying exhaustion. Your nose is slightly pink and although being out in the cold does that, your cheeks aren't in the same state. I can also mention how the condition of your clothing further shows that you woke up on time and not late, but I don't think I need to prove my point any further, unless you want me to. I could go on."

"No, you can stop." Molly turned from him and rubbed her eyes another time. She felt silly for shedding tears in the first place and she didn't want to again when Sherlock was in the room.

The detective pulled back from what he was doing and approached her, making sure to leave some space. His hands rounded behind him as his head tilted to the side. He really wasn't used to talking about feelings and such, which showed, but he supposed he should try regardless. "I usually wouldn't ask, seeing as you tend to keep to yourself on certain matters." He left it there, somehow letting her know she could continue if she wanted to.

"Tom and I had an argument, a few actually, last night for a while and then this morning." Molly looked up at him, but quickly found her gaze directed anywhere he wasn't. He was close, making her breathing stall for a second. "It's no big deal, I'm sure we'll be fine." Tom wasn't a confrontationist; he was far from it. However, he became somewhat distant as they fought, causing it to simmer down rather than be resolved.

She was avoiding eye contact, shifting her eyes so they didn't redirect back towards him. It was something she did often, however the reason this time was different. He could pick up on a few whys and wherefores, some more plausible then others, yet he kept them to himself.

"You never mentioned having a dispute before and there's been no previous indication, so if I'm assuming correctly, which I probably am, it has something to do with yesterday." At the mere mention caused her orbs to flicker up, leading him to believe he was on the right course. "Nothing was off during the wedding, or the beginning of the reception, so that leaves a small timeframe."

"I'd actually prefer not talking about it," Molly suddenly told him. However, knowing who he was, she knew he'd figure it out soon, so there was no point in trying to keep it a secret, nor could she find motivation to. "It's nothing serious. Tom he… he was just a little jealous and started questioning our relationship." She wouldn't mention certain parts though; she considered it private after all.

"Jealous?" His head leaned to the side, taking in the concept. That's what he supposed it was, but the question of why still lingered. The feeling was caused by insecurity. It's a negative, regressive state of mind and very different from envy. She was sitting rather close to Lestrade while he was making his speech, but they were fine at that point. That really only left one more person that could be the cause. "Because I was with you?"

It was extremely obvious how much Tom resembled Sherlock. Their appearance is close and they even dressed in similar attire. Molly knew all those things and yet she insisted with herself that those were all coincidences. Regardless, he probably picked up on the fact the moment they met.

"It's my fault, really. I shouldn't have left." She didn't regret it though. Sherlock clearly wasn't alright last night and if talking to him helped even the slightest, she was okay with how things were. "He's normally not like that; it was a bit odd actually."

"It's not like he needs to worry, we're friends," he mentioned offhandedly, waving off the notion. "You've been together for a while, met his parents, and adopted a dog. This correlation certainly exceeded your others."

"Are you saying I can't hold a relationship?" she asked, perhaps a tad too defensively. Although, he was right, neither of them lasted very long and she was the one who ended the majority of them. Molly couldn't exactly bring herself to commit to someone when Sherlock was around, not when she wanted to be with him more than anyone else. If she were being honest, it was the same now.

He paused, attempting to word his sentence better. "…No, not at all. I just meant sometimes it takes a while to find the right person. John dated many girls before he found Mary." Offering advice was another thing he rarely did, but there was no harm in trying. "If Tom is the one you want to be with talk things through, I'm sure you'll get past your problems. At least, I hear that works. I can't say for sure."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to spring all of this on you." Molly took a few paces from him and leaned against the counter the opposite from him. She took a moment to bring her hair over to one shoulder. "You probably already know I have a cat without me having to tell you, but ever since we got that dog, he's run away multiple times. I just got him back last week. I'm afraid I won't be able to find him the next time."

He quickly realized how the topic of discussion was segued to something else related but entirely different at the same time. "Regarding the first thing you said, you didn't. Nonetheless, I can't say I'm very helpful. And secondly, the fact that he keeps running off could be because you moved, the dog might not be the initial problem. Just a theory."

He couldn't figure out why what he said caused her to smile, nevertheless her grin triggered his lips to pull up as well, if only for a brief interval. Her company was nice to have, it always was, yet if felt somewhat different than before. It was unusual for him to do, however, Sherlock let his eyes linger on her, not for an extensive amount of time, but longer than he normally felt he should.

His aquamarine orbs caught the small amount of movement she made during the few seconds of silence passing between them. Her fingers slipped slowly through her light brown hair as she seemed to be lost in a thought. Even the way she pressed her lips together held his attention. His mind didn't go off analyzing her actions and the compulsion to speak wasn't there.

His muscles stiffen as he felt somewhat exposed, like he couldn't hide a thing from her. Considering how quick she was to figure out what was bothering him last night, when he denied it after giving himself other possible explanations, made it seem like concealing anything from her was impossible. Because unlike everyone else, perhaps John could also be counted as well, Molly could see past the emotionless and detached front he put on.

She didn't give any impression of noticing his gaze. A finger was brought to her mouth and pressed there for a second. He found the stillness in the room to be worth conserving at yet at the same instance wished to break the sustained quiet between them. When Sherlock finally directed his eyes away, she turned to him a moment later, opening her mouth to talk.

"No use in standing around all day," the brunette suddenly said, struggling to find reason to get her mind off of her problems. "Can I help you with something? I don't have anything I need to do right away." Technically, that wasn't completely true, but it was purely habitual to put whatever he was doing first.

The blood samples, how could he forget about them so carelessly? Looking straight ahead, he nodded and as usual, kept an epitome of composure. "I'm almost finished, you could write some things down for me. It would be easier than having to stop." The microscope was approached once again and he looked through the eyepiece, shifting his concentration to his work.

Molly wrote down whatever he told her to and within an hour he was heading out the door to meet up with Greg. A subtle sigh fled from her lips as soon as the door shut. Without him in the room a calming breath could be taken. As soon as she returned home, she'd have to face Tom again. Whether she should take Sherlock's suggestion about trying to work things through was questionable. But she knew breaking things off for someone who wouldn't return her feelings was pointless.

Even though that fact never stopped her in the past, Molly supposed she would just have to see how their conversation went and deal with whatever the outcome was. Forcing herself to move, she went back to work.

* * *

"Is this enough to convince you that man is guilty?" Sherlock questioned, with a slight roll of his eyes. He stood in Lestrade's office holding slight chagrin for having to further prove his point. "I really thought my word would be enough by now. I'm hardly wrong when it comes to these things, but you know that was well as I do. Of course, that's why you call me in the first place."

Greg rested a finger against his temple as he examined the results of the detective's finding. "It wasn't me who needed the proof. You came back from the dead. Some people don't even believe you're really Sherlock Holmes, too many conspiracy theories in my opinion." The papers were placed down before he set upright in his chair.

"I already explained myself, saying anything further is unnecessary." He glanced around the room, showing no interest in the conversation, which was picked up on rather quickly, not that he really cared much for the notice.

"Either way, I'll let Donovan know so we can wrap up this case," Greg told him. "Didn't take you more than two days to figure this one out, even with the wedding yesterday. I would have thought you'd put it aside with all the commotion, but I should have known better. During the reception you were also trying to figure something out, right? You don't randomly say 'murder' without a reason."

"Surprised you picked up on that much, although your whole dwarf concept was ridiculous and implausible." Sherlock turned his attention to the man after taking a few steps. "I could have finished it sooner without the distractions though."

Lestrade nodded, shifting a few documents on his desk. "For this one, I would have said the brother killed her. He had every reason to get revenge, he had no alibi, and even had the weapon on him, but her fiancé was defensive during questioning. He became one of our main suspects, although we couldn't have proved it without you."

"And I suppose you figured that out all on your own? Brilliant deduction," he mentioned, clasping his hands together, if almost praising the man. A small smile came to his face as well, adding lightness to his words.

Lestrade's face showed confusion, clear by the furrow of his brows and sideway turn of his head. Sherlock complimented people, but it was rare and mostly made in a backhanded sort of way. "Really, because-"

"No, now stop talking." His lips fell down and a more serious disposition took over, holding an inquisitive manner to his expression. "Naturally, you missed the most important part. It was his hands, you completely disregarded his hands. They were dry, callused to be more specific and you didn't notice the cut, therefore didn't consider the bacteria in his bloodstream, the same kind found on the victim. Child's play."

"Not everyone observes like you," he remarked, some traces of sarcasm found in his tone. Despite the comment, his fingers came together just before a question he's wanted to ask came out. "Now that John's gone, well married to be exact, are you going to be looking for another person to assist you? You brought Molly along a few weeks ago."

"I don't need to, it's not like he's going to stop working on cases completely." He had to wonder why people were even asking. He didn't see a reason to bother with the subject. "Why do you care anyway?"

Lestrade made a small shrug. He was used to John accompanying the detective; it was a bit strange seeing one without the other, even after the passing two years. "I for one don't want you walking around with that skull again. It was downright creepy. And it pretty much scared people away. I'm kind of glad you got rid of it."

"Yes, because your opinion matters so much to me," Sherlock expressed, turning his head to the left. Getting ready to head out again, he gave a short nod towards the man. "If I'm not needed anymore, I have more important things to do. Call if you have another case for me."

"As of right now we have nothing, could be a while before we get another sent to this division," Greg told him just as he sat back down and reached for the phone. He was surprised to see him angle back with an almost annoyed look taking over.

"I guess I'll have to find something to do on my own then. If I don't answer my phone, assume I'm busy and don't try calling again. Unless it's something exciting, like a good murder, those are always fun." He started leaving again, only to turn around another time at the sound of his voice.

"How exactly is finding a killer _fun_?" Lestrade asked with emphasis on the word. At first he gingerly allowed Sherlock to work with his team, now he was the one asking for help. His ideals on entertainment were debatable, but he never really took the time to ask why he considered such things enjoyable. At any rate, his mind held vast knowledge and his ability to deduce was admired, making him the man for any difficult task.

"Because it's… You wouldn't understand. Your brain couldn't follow what I mean. I don't know why I bother trying to explain." He saw his brow crease as if he was attempting to comprehend what was said. "And stop thinking, it's annoying." This time he actually left the room. He, of course, considered Greg a friend and ally, in spite of the fact that he couldn't remember his first name for the life of him.

Knowing the job was finished, he didn't need to be there to witness the man's arrest. Sherlock took a cab back to Baker Street, planning on spending the rest of the day, seeing as it would be dark in the matter of hours, at his flat. He could get by working on a few experiments or talking to clients if any happened to stop by.

* * *

Molly came home not knowing what to expect. When she opened the door it was silent. She almost thought Tom hadn't come back yet, until the dog started barking that is. He came over and quieted their pet down without greeting her, just as Toby was spotted scurrying across the floor, running somewhere safe. The feline was always hiding, if not, he was trying to escape.

A sigh fell from her lips, expecting at least a hello. The brunette entered the main room, waiting for Tom to come in, which only took a few minutes. She sat on the couch and folded her fingers together. Her boyfriend stood for a second before taking a seat as well. His gaze was towards the floor and she knew that meant he was attempting to find the right words to say. She decided it was best to let him talk first.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," he said rather slowly. He had spent most of the day, if not all of it, reflecting on what happened. Why he suddenly felt doubt and perhaps even suspect something was going on. Tom didn't want to jump to any conclusions or make her feel like he was interrogating her, but he was lost on what the right option was.

"So have I," she mentioned soon after. Her mind was plagued with thoughts about her conversation with Sherlock and the fighting that occurred before. "Can we talk about this without arguing this time?"

"You never answered my question, last night or this morning. When I asked what he meant to you, but I guess I don't need it." His eyes darted upward to see her facial expression. It was mixed between confusion and worry. "Why didn't you just tell me you still had feelings for him?"

"I-I don't." The brunette knew that was a lie as much as she did. "I said yes to you. Why are you suddenly questioning me about this?" Her tone was meek, feebler than she wanted it to be. The atmosphere was daunting in the room. It was like a heavy sense of unease abruptly swept over them. She swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to push down the feeling along with it.

"Molly, just be honest with me." His voice was held in lighter caliber, almost like he couldn't quarrel anymore. "I don't need to be a detective to figure it out. It's the way you look at him and talk about him. I should have realized it sooner. Maybe I was just too blind to see it, but I do now, very clearly."

The doctor bit back on her lip, taking a deep breath in the process. This was not how she imagined things turning out; it was supposed to be different with him. They met through friends, not because of work. He was a normal person, with a typical job, and they did all the things couples do, such as going out to dinner, taking walks, just enjoying being in each other's company.

"What do you want me to say, Tom?" she almost asked in a desperate tone. "I'm happy being with you." Was she? Could she really say those words and mean them? Seeing the doubt muddled in his eyes and small amount of sadness coming through caused her heart to sink.

Tom stood from his chair and sat on the sofa next to her. He couldn't bring himself to look at her for more than a few seconds at a time until he started speaking again, which took a while. "I believe for those two years you were happy with me, that before Sherlock came back and possibly a little while after, you wanted this." Tom took hold of her hands, shaking his head in the process.

"Are you saying you don't want this anymore? We were together for a long time and…" Molly's sentence trailed off. She still remembered the day he proposed. He took her where they first met; it was a bit romantic in her eyes. Blinking back tears, she shifted in her seat and lightly grasped his fingers. A slight fear of losing him and the life they shared was a lot to handle.

The quietness contained any amount of anger he might have had. It would be easy to lash out, but it wasn't in him to do that. Even during the previous arguments, he kept a cool demeanor, which wasn't exactly easy. "Sherlock isn't the only problem, I think we are too."

Molly tilted her head to the side, showing signs of misunderstanding. She could feel the tension weighing down on them and it caused her to tense, almost not wanting to ask the question burning on her tongue. "What do you mean?"

"I guess seeing you with him last night just made me realize a few things." He paused, glancing over to catch the puzzlement leaving her face, only to be replaced by a frown. Clearing his throat some, he kept his focus on their interlocked hands. "I can't help being jealous of seeing you with Sherlock, just like you couldn't prevent feeling the same way when you saw him with Janine. No matter how much you lie to yourself, I know you're not over him."

By the looks of it, he wasn't sure if she'd ever move on. He couldn't say whether the consulting detective was interested in her, having only spoken a few times, regardless of what the correct answer was Tom couldn't keep holding onto something that wasn't there.

Her mouth was too dry to respond right away. There weren't many things she could say at this point. Molly knew he was being honest with her and it was painful seeing him endure this kind of conversation. When sound finally came out, she could only mutter a few words. "I do love you."

"I know, just not enough, right?" Tom inquired, with a dejected undertone dragging down his voice. "I fit what you think a marriage should be. You wanted a practical, steady relationship, so much you kept telling yourself you were happy, that you were willing to marry the wrong guy. Just to prove you could have that perfect image of what a husband and wife should be and to show everyone you were over him. I might be wrong, but I don't think I am. That's not enough for me and is shouldn't be for you either."

She drew her hand away and covered her mouth, afraid to cry again. He was right and she felt horrible for deceiving him, even if it was unconsciously done. Hurting him was the last thing she wanted to do. "Where exactly does this leave us? Ending our engagement a few months before the ceremony is supposed to happen? I know I haven't been fair to you and you deserve better, but I-"

Tom gently silenced her. "The truth is you're attracted to the danger, to people like Sherlock Holmes. If can't give you what you want, tell me. It's not fair to me, to him, or yourself." A breath was taken, seeing as his next words were difficult to get out. "In the end you have to choose. Either let him go or we end things right now, because I can't be with you knowing you're in love with someone else."

Molly became quiet. He was making her pick between him and Sherlock? Why did everything always have to turn out this way? The brunette looked down at her ring and back at him. Deep down, she already knew the answer.

* * *

**I don't know much about Tom, no one really does, but since they were going to get married, I feel like their conversation should hold some kind of meaning. I just kind of went with it. When it comes to Sherlock and Molly, I'm trying to develop things slowly between them so their relationship won't happen right away. I will try to get my next chapter out as soon as possible. Until then, please leave a review.**


	3. Decisions

**I can't believe I have so many people following my story after two chapters. I'm still trying to figure out a few things out for my next chapter, but I'm hoping it will be up soon.**

* * *

Molly took a moment to gather her thoughts. Tom was asking her to pick between him and Sherlock. One would mean she continues with her proceeding wedding, while the other involved breaking it off and ending things with her boyfriend completely. Her mind told her to be logical and choose the man who loves her and wants to be together, but her heart opposed it.

The detective wasn't the type of guy who wanted a relationship, nor could she imagine him being in one, yet her feelings for him were still present and holding onto hope that he might someday be interested. In all likelihood, he already knew how she felt and said nothing about it, making it seem silly to pursue someone who held no attraction towards her.

On the other hand, Tom wanted to be with her, expressed his care and devotion. The brunette couldn't blame him for being jealous or even asking her to pick at this very moment. It wasn't fair to marry him without giving up on all other romantic attachments. He may have a similar appearance to Sherlock, but he was so different. He was safe and warm while Sherlock took leaps of danger and the majority of the time held a cold persona, but she knew he could be the show both attributes Tom held.

If she followed her heart could she bring herself to do anything? Was there a reason to break things off between herself and Tom if Sherlock rejected her like she assumed he would? In the end, keeping a relationship with someone she didn't truly love was wrong. It would be like settling just because you couldn't have what you really wanted and that was a horrible thing to do to anyone.

Molly took a breath, closing her eyes for a few seconds. A deep thudding could be felt within her chest just as she opened her mouth to speak. Her voice came out tenderly, almost too light to hear. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I can go through with this and marry you."

She watched as he gave a small nod, turning his head away in the process. The hurt was apparent in his expression and she nearly wanted to take it all back. Regardless, the ring given to her so many months ago was pulled off her finger in a slow tug. Taking Tom's hand, she placed the small object in his palm, holding onto his digits as they closed around the jewel.

His silence was unnerving. Molly bit down on her lip and fumbled with her fingers before breaking the stillness. "I wouldn't blame you if you wanted me to leave. I'm the one who moved in with you, so it's only fair for me to go." She didn't know where or what places would accept cats, but staying didn't feel right if he didn't want her here.

A sigh finally came out. He held his gaze with her for a while, unable to say much to what she had said. "I'm not going to kick you out on the street," he told her. Tom couldn't bring himself to throw her out, but even he knew having her here wasn't going to be easy. "Stay until you find a place."

Somewhat taken aback by his kindness, she felt guilty all over again, which left her wondering if the feeling would ever go away. Her lips parted as her mind tried to put her thoughts in order. "Why don't you hate me? I just ended our engagement." She couldn't understand him at all; he should have held resentment and told her to leave the second she gave her reply.

"I guess I can't bring myself to detest you, even if you have feelings for someone else." He slumped forward not able to look over at her right now. "I asked you to decide, I was prepared for either answer, although I was hoping you'd choose me over Sherlock. I just want you to be happy."

"I really am sorry. I know I can't apologize enough. You were always too nice to me, even when we first met." She stopped there, wiping her eyes in the process. "As for letting me stay a while longer, thank you." Molly tried to smile, but it fell rather quickly. There was no way she could atone for her actions and unknown charade. Words of apology only got her so far and they'd never be enough either.

"If Sherlock didn't come back would you have gone through with the wedding or still break up with me?" Tom asked. In a way he needed to know the answer. Was the return of the famous detective to blame or was it something Molly thought she wanted but in the end couldn't go through with?

"Don't make me answer that," she announced somewhat heartbrokenly. Truthfully, a reply couldn't be found because she wasn't sure herself. The day Sherlock came back flashed through her mind. They spoke for a while, casual conversation of course, nothing to brag about. Molly didn't realize how much she missed him until he was standing right in front of her. She was brought back to the present when he stood. "Tom, I-"

"I need some air," he said, cutting her off. "I'll be back later." He walked out of the room and the front door could be heard as it opened and then shut. Once again it was quiet.

Molly fell back into the couch and let out a heavy sigh. Did she really just conclude one of the longest running relationships just because she was still in love with Sherlock Holmes? She didn't know what she going to tell everyone or what they'd think if they knew the reason. Molly brought her hand up and brushed it though her hair in an uneven line.

It was her decision and despite the difficulties bound to come from it, Molly knew it couldn't be any other way. The question of what she was going to do now remained. Try to tell the youngest Holmes about her feelings or simply continue leaving things the way they were, being seen as friends and nothing more. She supposed that could wait until later, when things around here reestablished themselves.

* * *

"You never answered my messages," Mycroft stated, sitting across from his brother. His head stayed slanted to the side as his fingers came together. He came by a few minutes prior to Sherlock returning, letting himself in and taking a seat.

"And that gave you incentive to come over?" the younger of the two asked, furrowing his brows. "I didn't feel like it." He simply waved it off while plucking the strings of his violin. His sibling's appearance was expected, although not fully wanted. However, they both knew he would have continued ignoring him no matter how many times his phone rang. His actions were paused for a moment. "How's the diet?"

"Fine," he replied, drawing out the word. After getting that call from Sherlock at the wedding, which he knew was made from slight anxiety, it was apparent he needed something to keep himself occupied for a while. "I can see you're doing well on your own, just like before."

Sparing a withered look, he let out a breath before putting his instrument down. His position on the chair was straightened, only for a moment so he could lean forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "What are you really doing here? You're not one to stop by to have a friendly chat, not that you have any friends to talk to, but as you said, you're not lonely. Go on."

Mycroft rolled his eyes a bit at the comment, but disregarded it. There was no point getting into a disagreement over a minor remark, it made no difference to him. "As ever, I'm concerned about you, dear brother."

"You also have work for me," he told him, ignoring the fretfulness hidden under Mycroft's tone. "I'd think someone who pretty much is the British Government, or any other names you take on a freelance basis since you _obviously_ hold many titles, wouldn't need to come to a consulting detective. But of course, I'm the only one you know who will get the job done. Rightfully, because even the people under your thumb can't get the kind of information I can."

"Minor position, Sherlock," he reminded him with some annoyance. Clearing his throat, he went back to business, taking out a folder from his jacket pocket in the process. "As it so happens, there is something I'd like you to look into."

"You know I don't necessarily have to take a case just because you want me to. I might turn you down." He went back to strumming his violin, acting indifferent towards the information and whatever papers were contained in the file. Naturally his attention was caught right away; after all he was bored without a job, even though one was just finished.

"I highly doubt that. The word murder usually keeps your interest. Before we go into that, I have a question." He pulled his hand back just before Sherlock could take the object from his hand, keeping it next to him for now.

"And I assure you, whatever it is, I won't give you an answer to your liking," Sherlock averred. Regardless, he rounded his head, waiting whatever inquiry Mycroft had. It most likely had something to do with the assignment so he might as well listen. Gesturing him to keep going, he relaxed into the seat once again.

Mycroft narrowed his gaze towards his brother. "Are you capable if solving a case without making it a big show of it? In layman's terms, can you avoid the public eye and stay out of the press?"

"They find me, not the other way around. How do you expect me to assure something like that?" An inquisitive brow was raised after the question; however, the elder's facial expression remained unchanged, triggering a small huff to fall from his lips. "But if you insist, and are so desperate, I'll make an acceptation and keep my whereabouts to myself. So, what's this case about then?"

"Certain people, and by people I mean members of higher stature, are having money siphoned from their accounts after they're killed. I simply need a name, preferably before he strikes again. This file has the rest of the information you'll need." This time he handed the documents to him, giving a slight nod in the process. Evidently, the work would be done despite his slight reluctance, hopefully using agreeable methods.

"Is that all? I was hoping for something more… exhilarating. You just want me to ID him. Are you saying I shouldn't go after him myself? Can't guarantee that," he idly mentioned while flipping through some of the papers.

"Just because you look at this like a game doesn't mean it is. Make any moves without my knowing and you'll be putting yourself against me. It may not seem like it but this man is dangerous and needs to be taken in for questioning. You cannot act on your own." Knowing full well how flippant Sherlock could be, Mycroft had to make sure he took this task for what it was, a possible dangerous job that had to be done discretely.

"Whatever you say. Oh, I'm sorry. Your tone implies I'm actually supposed to take that seriously. I'll let you know if I notice," Sherlock replied, standing in the process. "If that's all, I have other things to attend to as I'm sure you do. After all, I wouldn't want to delay your trip to the Diogenes Club. You usually head there around this time." Just as he finished speaking there was a knock on the door. It opened a few seconds later, revealing Molly as she took a step in before talking.

"I didn't know you had company," she said, moving back a bit. Truthfully, she wasn't even sure if he would be home. He didn't stop by Bart's today, not that she expected him to. "I can come back another time if right now isn't good."

"He was just leaving," Sherlock told her prior to facing Mycroft. "Weren't you, brother mine?" The file was placed on the table next to his seat before he tilted his head a fraction towards the exit. Besides, he didn't have anything else to say.

"Apparently," he remarked, taking hold of his umbrella. "Don't overdo it this time and make sure every paper in that folder is returned to me, it has confidential information that I need back as soon as possible. And if you can refrain from sharing it with anyone that would be best." He headed out of the room, giving a slight nod to Molly before heading down the stairs.

"Oh, he is good," he remarked as soon as the door was closed. He stepped onto his chair before sitting and brought his hands together, appearing to be in thought about something. "He knew I wouldn't turn something like that down. Of course, of course, it's obvious. But first I have to get my Homeless Network on the case, should be simple from that point on." He paused, remembering Molly came over. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I don't know… I mean, I just decided to stop by before going home, I guess." Her gaze fell. She didn't really didn't have a reason for coming unannounced, other than the fact that she didn't want to be in her flat right now. It's been rather silent ever since Tom came back from his walk last night and the quietness was starting to make her feel uneasy. "Where's John's chair?" she suddenly asked, noticing it was missing.

"It was blocking my view to the kitchen," he told her whilst gesturing out in front of him as if proving his point that his view was now clear without it there. He got up again and stood in front of her for a moment. "I'm guessing talking didn't go very well. Your ring is off and I'm assuming so is the wedding."

He saw the slight drop in her posture and let out a somewhat awkward breath. It was clear how upset she was and how hard she was trying not to let it show. Molly spent a long time with Tom and they shared a life together, at least for a while. She wasn't one to get overly emotional in front of others, so he didn't expect her to be very responsive after his statement.

"It's no big deal, really. Well, it is but I'll be alright. It's not like I don't know how to handle a breakup, although I never had a relationship last as long as this one." She peered up, catching his eyes. He was looking at her rather intently, causing her to shift her stance and direct her gaze somewhere else. It was something he often did while speaking to her however, this time she had a hard time giving a reply while holding it.

Sherlock was unsure of what to say. Anything dealing with dating or couples didn't exactly fall under his expertise. There were no verses of advice he could utter nor could he offer any words of solidarity. In turn, that gave her another opportunity to start talking again.

"I spend my breaks at work calling up places. It seems people don't like when you suddenly cancel. It's a good thing I didn't go out and buy a dress. I probably couldn't have got myself to return it. I don't even know how to go about telling everyone," Molly explained while pacing a few steps. Clearly a nervous habit she picked up while he was away.

As she continued, his hues flickered between her and the other side of the room, uncertain to why his eyes kept dragging themselves towards her. It happened yesterday at the hospital as well and he still found it odd. He tried not thinking too much of it, since he didn't consider the action important or that it really meant anything at all.

A roundabout route was taken to his chair. He didn't sit down, merely stood ahead of it. The way she spoke was introverted, further proving his assumption on how flustered she was on the matter. He could identify the exchanges in her actions and connect them with the issue overtaking her, but could not fully empathize with the problem or her overall anguish. This was unmistakably something one gets over after a reasonable amount of time.

Sherlock fixated his head away from her, although kept it slightly in her direction. "Are you sure you're okay with all of this? It seems you're more bothered by the whole thing than you want to say, which is, by any means, understandable."

She couldn't tell him why, the idea was preposterous to consider. Besides, she had no right springing her feelings on him so abruptly or at all. If Sherlock knew he was the reason for their break up, she had to wonder if he'd care at all. In spite of that, the fault was all her own since Tom gave her a choice. Molly sat down on the couch, needing to be off her feet. "To be completely honest, I'm not sure. It hasn't quite hit me yet. We talked for a while and it just won't work, not anymore."

The only thing that changed was his return, but he couldn't mention that. It'd certainly stir an unwanted conversation. "If that's what the two of you agreed with then I suppose there's not much else you can do." He did sit down right after her, but didn't recline as if he would jump back up any second.

"I guess not…" She wasn't very good at noticing things like he was, however, she knew, without any form of pretense that something was off about him. She recognized how important the army doctor was to him and she didn't want to alter the topic of discussion, although it seemed just about done with, from herself but he looked, to a certain extent, overtaken by his departure. "About John, I know you'll continue be solving cases together and you're still friends, but are you going to be okay without him here? You don't have to answer me, but I wouldn't think anything less of you if you told me you were going to miss having him here."

He made a small movement, indicating a slight disquiet of the mention and, as ever, answered with a statistic stating behavior "Clearly, one would miss someone who was with them constantly and feel somewhat lonely when they're not there anymore. As for me, I assure you, I'll be okay. I don't know why people are so intent on knowing how I feel."

Molly ducked down a bit and pursed her lips for a short while. She saw the way he was around John, always keeping any form of disarray off his face when next to him. Their friendship was indeed admirable. She never would have though, upon her first meeting with the detective, that he could have such a bond with someone. "I just wanted to make sure. You've been away for a while and things have changed."

"Things are always changing, it can't be helped," he mildly mentioned. The topic was discouraged to continue as he made no other comment nor did she reply with another question to keep it going.

During the slight stall, Molly glanced about the room. Facts she instinctively knew about Sherlock but never noticed began showing themselves. She was only here on a few occasions but it seemed more cluttered than before. Items were sprawled about the place in a shambolic manner, no order could be seen. A few packs of cigarettes were spotted, all empty except for one still half full.

"Are you smoking again?" the brunette asked, crinkling her nose a bit, just now picking up on the scent lingering in the air. "It's only been two days since the wedding. You have nicotine patches, don't you?"

An unmistakable amount of displeasure was etched into her features. Just like John, she didn't like habit. The drug was, nevertheless the last thing on his mind. His addiction to it was minimal at the moment despite the many he went through within a day. "I think the answer to you first question is answerable without me saying, as for the second, I have them but no, I haven't been using any."

Her fingers twisted together. She knew the dependency on them always existed yet for the most part she could recall a lack of use, on the other hand, she wasn't really around him enough to know for sure. "It's really none of my business, but can I ask why?"

"No specific reason," he vaguely replied, picking up the file Mycroft left for him. Sherlock glanced upward from the papers to see her give a few nods before quieting down once again. A pending notion to his undesired stare came to mind, for he found the transfer of his orbs were aimed on her another time. He once stated he was unaware of the beautiful, which remained true. And therefore uncomprehending of the affections she held for him.

So, in all veracity, Sherlock could have an inexplicit idea of what those feelings were like. If he was ever to experience them, he'd indisputably push them aside. They did nothing to enhance his ability to work; in any case they'd probably do the opposite. He did, over the course of time, acknowledge how important Molly was and grew incredibly fond of her. Even without him realizing, she has always been there for him.

In regards to what was causing the unusual action he deemed it as nothing, although there would continuously be a sort of nagging going on in the back of his mind about it. Distraction, he needed a distraction from the concept. The job would work; they tended to shift his focus quite easily.

A few option on starting the assignment passed through his mind, most having to do with his network as he mentioned previously. John's assistance would have been helpful, but he supposed Molly could lend him a hand, if it wasn't too much trouble. Before he could get another word out about it in a knock was heard. His attention was now placed on the visitor.

Mrs. Hudson came in the room, smiling as she noticed the woman sitting across from Sherlock. "Molly, I didn't know you were here, I hope I'm not interrupting." A shake of the head was seen before she continued. "Is everything going well? How has Tom been?"

At the question she withdrew a breath. Molly wasn't bothered by it; she just wasn't ready to say anything to anyone else about the cancelation of their engagement. It was a bit embarrassing, especially after she announced being over the consulting detective in front of the woman. "Alright, I suppose."

"They aren't together anymore, ended things last night," Sherlock specified, not bothering to look up from the papers. He didn't see Molly's sinking glance or Mrs. Hudson's look of surprise. The quietness drew his attention up to the two women. His head tilted a bit as his hands came together before addressing the brunette. "Did you want people knowing yet? They're going to find out eventually anyway, no reason prolonging it." Right after his focus was drawn to the documents another time.

Disregarding his impulsive announcement, the old woman faced Molly with a fairly sympathetic look. "My husband and I, we didn't had didn't go through any rough patches at first, it was quite the opposite but I wouldn't focus too much on that if I were you. Things might work themselves out. Are you staying with him for the time being?"

"For now, but I just feel wrong ending things like that and still living together, I'm sure it's hard for him too," she mentioned, attempting to keep a smile on her face. She knew it was difficult for Tom, he still loved her. Feelings don't just disappear overnight because the relationship is over. She felt that way as well. "I've glanced at a few newspapers, but I can't seem to find a place, at least no one that's cheap and accepts cats."

"I would offer a room to you but I don't have any extra available at the moment. You wouldn't be comfortable in the one downstairs; I could never get anyone to rent it out, drafty and such." She paused, an idea coming to mind as soon as she glimpsed at the detective. "Why don't you just stay with Sherlock until you find a more permanent place? I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

He looked up at this point, arching a brow at her proposal. The file was soon placed on the side table before he stood from his chair. "Don't you have tea going?" he abruptly reminded, taking a step forward.

"I nearly forgot. It should be finished any second now. It was nice seeing you again," Mrs. Hudson announced as she rushed off. She stopped at the door, facing the doctor. "Just let me know what you decide. I normally don't allow pets, but I would make an acceptation just this once as long as the others don't find out, can't have them bringing in animals too."

"Sorry about that," Sherlock said, shaking his head a little once she was gone. "She tends to get ahead of herself and well, she likes helping people when she's able." He wasn't looking for someone to split the rent with, but she has done so much for him in the past, helped him when he had no one else to turn to, he might as well return her kindness in a way that was favorable to her. "The offer still stands though. John isn't living here anymore and will be away on his Sex Holiday or honeymoon as everyone calls it, for another week. Since it will only be for a short while... I guess it wouldn't be a problem." He studied her for a moment, witnessing the various expressions crossing her face.

This time her voice held a note of surprise. She could read the uncertainty in his tone, knowing it had to do with his best friend's absence. "Really? I don't want to intrude or be a bother." The suggestion did sound appealing and staying with Tom wasn't doing either of them any good. Maybe taking an opportunity like this would be beneficial or it could make things even more difficult; still there was a lot to consider. "I'll think about it."

"Alright then," he replied, ending it there. Sherlock grabbed his coat and scarf. "As for now, I could use some assistance if you don't mind. I have my Homeless Network station in various places and I need to get a message to a few of them. Details on the way."

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**I feel like having Molly move in with Sherlock will get some progress in their relationship but it's not going to happen right away. Obviously, not having John around is hard for him to deal with, so I'm trying to work with that. The case Mycroft gave will be important in later chapters as well. I hope you guys are enjoying my story so far, please review and let me know what you think.**


	4. Fidelity

**Look who finally got chapter 4 up. Sorry about the wait, had a bit of writers block. Hope you guys enjoy and thanks for all the people who followed my story, added it to their favorites, and left a review. **

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Molly just finished delivering a note to the last member of Sherlock's Homeless Network on the list he wrote out for her. He was out doing the same except he took the routes on the other side of London, planning to come together when they were both finished. She didn't read what was written on any of the pieces of paper, but certain people had to get a specific letter.

Sherlock briefly explained the task Mycroft gave him, mentioning how it will take some time locating the man they were looking for and that this was merely the first step. Despite the fact that she was hardly used to doing this sort of thing, having to be discreet and on her guard constantly, he still asked her for help. She was a bit surprised but also not at the same time. This task, if he were to do it alone, would have taken well past midnight to complete.

The brunette was on her way to their meeting place which was a block away from Bart's. She received a text a few minutes prior to her leaving the subway station, where the final member she needed to contact was, stating that he was on his way.

The sun set about an hour ago, leaving the air cold and the streets still damp from the rain shower in the afternoon. Molly kept her hands in her coat pockets as she crossed the road. Very few people were walking about, most were at home or on their way. Without the crowds and usual traffic cluttering the area, getting to her destination was a quick and simple process.

The young detective was seen the moment she turned the corner. He was on his phone and if she had to guess, he was still doing something regarding the case. She knew once he was on a task nothing else could take his focus from it. She was sure if there wasn't a small splashing sound every time a step was taken, he wouldn't have noticed her coming at all. All he did was glance over at her for a moment before looking back down.

"I'm hoping you delivered every message without a problem," Sherlock mentioned as he sustained a constant rhythm with his fingers while searching for a few things on his cell.

"It was a little difficult finding them all considering the directions you gave me, but all the notes were received," Molly told him, keeping her gaze towards the ground. "Why do you need so many people helping you out this time? I was under the impression one could get in contact with the others more subtly than we could."

"They can. Unlike other tasks I give, this one requires more than one assignment. Each member is doing the same thing but they have different person to trail." He handed her his phone, showing the brunette what he was researching. "I quickly thought up a few associates of the similar upper-class lifestyles who could be possible targets and having them trailed for a few days, three at the most."

Molly read through a few of the names, nodding as he spoke. "So, you're trying to figure out who the next victim will be not just by connection but by related traits the previous targets shared. Such as how they spend their day and who they're in contact with."

"Precisely," he replied. "Of course, I need to get more information on the others who were killed. Tomorrow I will go to all the scene of the crimes and if you could look at the bodies and see if you can find any other resemblances, for instance the way they were murdered, that would be helpful. I'll have to come by some other time to have a look myself and run some tests."

Sherlock took his phone back and placed it in his pocket. Her ability to catch on to his plan was faster than he expected, most of the time no one could figure out exactly what he was doing. He glanced at her for a moment, just before speaking, and saw how she began fidgeting with her hands. Since a ring was no longer on her finger the habit simply transferred to something else.

"I don't think I'm charge of any of their postmortems. I'll have to check the schedule for the autopsies and see what I can do. It shouldn't be a problem though." Seeing as she normally got things changed around so she could help him out, which mostly included coming in after hours, an agenda alteration was in her realm of capability.

"Good, now we just have another stop to make." He started walking again, turning the opposite way they stood. "Afterwards, I'd say we're done for the night. It's late already and I have a lot to do in the morning. The stop won't be long."

Molly caught up to him quickly and kept an even pace with him. "Where would that be?" Of course she'd go without complaint, but she still had to get up early for work and add a few more things on her list that needed to get done the next day.

"There's just one more person we need to see," Sherlock mentioned while fixing the collar of his coat. "He isn't a member of my network, but he does owe me a favor." In hindsight, there were many people who were indebted to him for various different reasons. The detective found it useful to have other connections and besides, most of their cases they presented were intriguing enough to hold his attention.

The walk was semi-longer than Molly expected, probably a few blocks from where they met up. It was quietly spent as Sherlock was in thought the majority of the time, she didn't mind though. The atmosphere was calming and the rain started picking up again, but it was more like a light mist than a shower. Darkness was descending upon the streets, causing the lampposts to flicker on.

"A coffee shop?" Molly questioned upon approaching the building. It was small, most likely family owned and from what she could see only a few customers were inside. "What exactly did you do for the guy who owns this place?"

"Saved him from going to jail for a crime he didn't commit." Sherlock opened the door entering the structure after her. "The evidence was stacked against him, nothing I couldn't sort out with a few calls and research." His eyes scanned the place until they rested on a familiar face. "I'll be right back, you can order something if you want." He left it there, heading towards the older man he was seeking.

Molly sighed a bit and sat down nonetheless, she might as well while they were here. After a few moments someone came over to ask what she wanted, to which she just requested a beverage. It only took about two minutes for the waitress to come back. Sherlock returned to her right as she was taking her first sip of the hot liquid and glanced down at the table.

"You got me coffee," the detective said after sitting across from her. He didn't plan on staying or even settling down into a seat, but he did without thinking. He held the cup for a few seconds before looking over at the brunette.

"You said you don't eat when working, and well, this isn't eating. I hope you don't mind." She knew it wasn't good for him to cut out food just because he was on a job; however, it wasn't her place to mention. "Black, two sugars just the way you like it. You've asked me to get coffee for you a lot in the past," Molly added, seeing as he arched a brow at her statement.

Nodding, he wore a fairly tight smile as the gesture was accepted. He drank some prior to setting it back on the table. "The information he gave me will help when you're doing their autopsies, certain aspects to look for and things such as that." He extended his arm to hand her the slip of paper. "Since Mycroft made it apparent to keep this assignment quiet, I can't say much to anyone…"

Sherlock's voice trailed off when his fingers brushed against hers just before she took held of the small note. She drew back rather quickly and turned away while his hand just stayed in place for a moment. His digits flinched inward as he tilted his head a fraction of an inch to the side. Oddly enough, a simple touch robbed him of speech. The contact was brief and yet it caused a bigger reaction within than he expected.

He pulled back unsure what to say or how to reconcile with what just happened. He felt somewhat stiffened by the interaction. Despite the coldness of the air they were just out in, her skin was warm and even with his vast knowledge; he couldn't quite understand the want to draw back to her touch. There was no trace of confusion on his face, but his mind was succumbed to thought about the encounter.

Something felt off about his expression and Molly tried not to let her brows furrow in thought while she wondered what had caused it. He didn't seem the type to be affected by something as small as that, not in the way she was. There were several excuses she could make, some valid, some not so much, about why he was so absorbed in what occurred but instead she gave up on the matter.

She let her heartbeat return to normal before noticing how he paused. Molly could endure the quiet when she's high-strung, but this just felt different. "I'll make sure to hold onto it," she muttered. That was the best ice breaker she can think of given the circumstances, yet he still made no reply. "What were you going to say about the case?" she asked, trying another time.

It took a second for his withdrawn look to disappear. He nodded a bit and found his voice again. "Just that my brother wants this to stay quiet, I'm sure I don't need to ask you not to say anything." Sherlock quickly took another sip from his cup, closing the space for him to talk another time.

Molly lightly bit down on her lip. He was acting reclusive; she could see it by the way he pulled back from the conversation. She wasn't naïve, something was up with him. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that John wasn't going to around as often. It could be that but it didn't quite seem like that was the cause, after all nothing was said about the army doctor.

"I don't want to keep asking you this, but are you alright? You seem a bit… distracted," she said, looking for the best word to describe his actions. Seeing the way he looked up at her, eyes blinking a few times just before he gave a reply, proved she was on to something, although she wasn't relatively sure what that particular thing was.

"I'm fine," he mentioned in a fleeting tone. "Something Mycroft mentioned is just occupying my thoughts." Keeping his head lowered, he took a second to gather himself and push aside the feelings, no matter how strange as they were to him. "He can be very temperamental when it comes to the assignments he gives me."

Again, her brows rose inquisitively when he went around the question and decided to speak about his brother but this time, she decided to leave it at that. She's already said enough on the matter. "I've only met him once, it wasn't an official meeting; we spoke a bit though. He seems nice enough to me."

"That's because you don't really know him. He can be very crafty, especially when we were younger." Sherlock shook his head a bit on the notion. They got along for the most part, but snippy remarks would always follow through their conversations, on his end mostly.

"I never hear you talk about your past, your family even," she told him somewhat surprised at the mention. "Not that you have a reason to with me. We're friends, but not that close I suppose." All they ever really did together were things within the morgue, nothing that felt like it made a big impact. Although, when he asked for her help concerning his fake death, he presented a level of trust she hardly got a glimpse of.

Her words caused his gaze to land upon her. He made some kind of mental reservation when it came to her importance at first, but his views were realized on the simple mention of 'I don't count.' He rested his arms, closing their proximity a bit just as he lifted his chin almost having to challenge the ambiguity of what she said. "You've changed while I was gone, not completely but you have."

When he leaned forward, she didn't veer back like she wanted to. The impulsion was there yet Molly could only stare back at him as she shifted slightly. This wasn't the closest Sherlock Holmes has ever been to her. On two accounts he's been near enough to feel his breath against her face, to take in the soft touch of his lips when he placed a kiss on her cheek. Quite frankly, she wasn't sure how to interpret anything he did. "Have I?" she queried back, tilting her head to mirror his motions. "Sometimes I feel like some things will never change, like they're just meant to be one way."

Possibly like they were. Never destined to be romantically involved, but she sensed the attraction that pulled her towards him, the thing that made her want to believe in love at first sight. It was his cleverness, his burning intellect that fascinated her. His ability to calculate was commendable, something she revered. Molly was always a sensible girl, yet when he was near all sense flooded from her.

He replied with unwonted slowness, normally he'd be quick to comment but something stalled him and contradicted a quip remark. "You never know for sure. Sometimes the most unlikely to change can surprise you. Certainly you've realized that yourself."

"Yes, I think I have," she commented, in fact she was looking at someone who has. Sherlock could still be cold and say horrible things but he was letting so much more of himself out, maybe without even recognizing he was doing so. It became silent and she felt herself flush at the stall. It was moments like these, ones rendered with gentle dialogue, she wanted to preserve in her mind. When there didn't feel like so much space between them, like he never left. "I can't imagine what's different about me," she further expressed to take away some of the muteness.

Sherlock smiled a bit, allowing the incline of his lips to stay for a few moments. "You were always more of a quiet girl, a tad reserved, but strong at the same time. The contrast lies in the way you speak, more solid and outgoing, the way you hold yourself, upright with additional self-assurance. They are all good aspects if to be opinionated by a ridiculous man such as myself."

She felt her cheeks burn another time. It was rare to get any form of compliment from him, but what he said was very true. "Ridiculous is hardly the term I'd use to describe you." He called himself that during his speech as well, perhaps he really viewed himself like that despite his small ways of telling other his mind exceeds theirs in multiple ways.

"What would you go with then?" he asked, bringing his hands together. His brow was raised in an inquisitive way, making his curiosity known. There were only so many adjectives individuals used to describe him.

Several words surfaced but died before they could leave her lips, ones too charismatic than he would want to hear. Saying too much could make him uncomfortable; it would raise too many questions. She couldn't allow her interest in him to be shown so openly. Simple conversation wasn't something that could change his mind about her, where they stood, or how he feels. She wants to tell him everything, but instead she opts to keep her affections inside like always.

"I don't know, maybe something less normative than that. A lot of people say you're brilliant, which is true." Molly paused for a second, attempting to think of a better term. "You seem to be more extroverted then others realize."

What is praise if not fulsome? The consulting detective leaned back, opening the space between them once more. "Interesting, I haven't heard that one before. Most have to do with how smart I am or simply how rude I could be, which let's face it, I tend to offend people on a daily basis."

She gives a light shake of her head. "I can't disagree with that entirely, but I believe there is more to you than that. I was being completely honest, I'd say I know there is more to you than you let others see." His mind was always racing, he was in an endless state of alert, and she had to wonder if it got to be too much sometimes.

His eyes narrowed infinitesimally in consideration to her way of amenably speaking. Again, the constant why bubbling onto his lips, despite what he knew about her the way she was always able to hold a high regard of him no matter what he did was bewildering. "And if I was to ask why you feel that way, what would you say?" Somehow, he knew she'd give him an answer.

Her head tilted to the side when she heard his doubts spoken aloud. "I guess it's because I've seen how good of a person you can be. What you'd do to protect the people you care about. I also understand why you don't show it often."

Sherlock kept his gaze straight for a few moments. She was able to grasp more things about him that he was sure only someone close to him, such as John was, would be able to do that. Perhaps her fondness of him was the cause of it.

He's learned over the years, due to certain circumstances and events, attachments, especially romantic ones, held you down. Sherlock decided a long time ago he didn't need anyone in that sense; he couldn't afford to accept those types of feelings. Whether he actually wanted someone was an entirely different argument, though he'd never let his mind linger on it.

He wasn't sure exactly how to make a reply to what she said, however felt like he had to give some sort of acknowledgement to her words, although it came out a bit callous than he intended. "And what exactly makes you think you know so much about me?"

At his almost harsh questioning, her brows raised as she finally gave an elusive answer, straying away from the strict truth of the matter. "No reason. It's nothing important anyway. Sorry if I was being a bit too intrusive. I didn't mean anything by it." She should have known by now, acclaiming wasn't something he was used to and by saying such things, even if it wasn't much, she was sure he felt too exposed for his liking.

"You don't have to apologize," Sherlock told her in softer tone. When had life become so complicated that a conversation or even a cup of coffee with her didn't seem as simple as it once was? "I know all of this may have seemed a bit… out of the blue, me asking you to come along during cases since I never asked you before but I appreciate you coming."

The corner of her lips pulled up in an appreciated sort of smile at his reply. This time, she didn't avoid giving an honest comeback, not completely anyway. "Like I told you before, I really don't mind. It's very different than I imagined, from the things John writes on his blog I thought it would be more dangerous, so to speak. You probably wouldn't ask me to come if they were though."

Before Sherlock could give an answer his phone went off, alerting him of the text message he received. Nodding a bit to her response, he took his cell out of his coat pocket and quickly read through the message. "It's from someone in my Homeless Network. They got that task done sooner than I expected. Look at this," he said, placing the device in front of her.

"You wanted them to map out London for you?" Molly questioned, getting a look at the screen. She supposed he had his reasons for asking for such a thing, he always did. "What do those dots represent?"

"They're all the locations our attacker has killed someone. Evidently, he stays in a certain radius, which is good for us." He leaned forward and pointing out the first place to her, seeming to pass off their previous conversation the moment the assignment was back into discussion. "This is the place he initially started, meaning I'll have my best chance gathering evidence here as long as it hasn't been tampered with."

He started murmuring a few coherent verses, a bit lost in his racing thoughts to notice they both went to grab the phone at the same time. The initial contact made this rambling come to a stop just before he jerked his hand away in an attempt to avoid the same reaction he had previously. He didn't even realize his sudden movement knocked her coffee over until she made a small gasp sound as the liquid dowsed her clothing.

"Sorry," he quickly muttered almost stalling his motions prior to handing her a few napkins. Getting up, almost too swiftly, he gabbed some more at one of the other tables, passing them to her and knelt down to clean off the floor some.

"It's okay. I can get the stain out," she mentioned, dabbing her shirt. She didn't expect him to yank his arm back that way, but banging into her cup was an accident and he did express regret. "At least your phone's alright." Despite it all, Molly smiled a bit, unable to be mad at him for something as silly as this.

"Yes, well I can't say the same for your clothing," he mentioned, shaking his head due to his actions. The moment Sherlock looked up he met her eyes and once again endured a lack of speech as no sound was pass his lips. And to add to this strange occurrence he felt his heart as it started beating at a faster rate than normal. He cleared his throat in hopes to get rid of the lump forming and the pressing silence that followed. "I mentioned before how many things are the same, but there is one thing about you, Molly Hooper that will never change."

She was a bit too flustered to ask what that was or even render some kind of response. Their faces were close once again, far more near then they had been at the table. She wasn't able to move an inch went her brown orbs were locked with his. Her eyes followed him as he stood, catching the slight hesitation as he did so.

"Apparently, it's pasted closing time," he stated, glancing around to calm his nerves. Neither of them noticed the people leaving while they were talking or the fact that they'd been conversing well into the night. "We should probably get going."

She gave a slight nod as he placed some money down. Once outside a few words was thrown between them, but Sherlock was acting differently again, his focus laid somewhere else as if he was trying to concentrate on anything but her.

It wasn't that strange to see since he has been distant to her in the past, pulling away from anything that went beyond simple conversation. Truthfully Molly didn't know much about him, but what she did know, and what she could see from a mere glance, put many things into perspective and explained so much. Sherlock Holmes was proud, oftentimes too much, but never vain.

Since he was spending time with her rather than brushing her aside showed how much he had altered over the course of two years. It made her expression soften, and she wanted to say something, comment on it perhaps, but she knew that would only make it worse on him.

He didn't need to say he was walking her back to her place, she figured it out when he didn't separate from her. It was dark after all and there weren't many cabs driving by. The quietness, which seemed to form around them a lot lately, wasn't hard to endure; actually it was a bit peaceful.

When they finally reached her building, he paused a few steps from the door. "Molly," Sherlock said, stopping her movements. Whatever these feelings were he doubted they'd be leaving anytime soon. Clearly being with her was making him feel different and he was unsure on how to make things go back to normal. He could say something on the matter but decides against it. "…Never mind."

And just like that, she wanted to take a step forward, the level of detachment in his words concerned her. She gave an incline of her head. Distancing one's self she can understand; he always separated himself from others. She couldn't even tell him that she wants to know what he was going to say, for he was sure to know that already.

Tonight, she was too tired to press the matter. The fact that he was still standing there, just looking at her with an eased filled expression was enough. She accepted his profound gratitude for helping him with Moriarty and in return he was treating her as a friend, someone who mattered. It was enough to make her heart ache, because there was nothing else she could do to thank him in return, to tell him how much she cared for him even if it was on a different level.

Molly merely gave a short nod, saying goodnight before heading inside. It was clear that nothing else was going to be said and there was no use standing around when they both had so much to do the next day.

Sherlock stood there for a while longer, shaking his head dismissively. The one thing that wouldn't change about her was how caring towards others she was. It wasn't something he could pride himself on, he admitted to that a long time ago. Heading back to Baker Street, he let out a sigh as his mind became muddled in too much thought about the woman he parted from.

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**The main point of this chapter was to get more progress in their relationship. I don't want to go too fast but I also don't want them getting together to take forever. I hope my story is still keeping everyone's interest, please review and let me know what you think.**


	5. Bittersweet

**I wish I could update faster but things come up and I'd rather not rush, I'm sure you guys understand. I'm getting a lot of wonderful feedback, so thank you to all the people who left reviews, I really appreciate it. **

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Molly folded her fingers together on the small table she was seated at. It's been two days since Sherlock came to the morgue to collect some information on the bodies connected to the latest string of murders. It wasn't uncommon for him to disappear for short intervals of time, so she wasn't all that worried about it. The only thing preoccupying her mind lately was the time they spent together at the café.

It was nothing exceptionally amazing, just a conversation yet it was a bit different than ones they've shared in the past. By the end of it, he was acting a tad odd, but it wasn't something she could concern herself with, not without a more stable reason to go off of. She was sure stress had something to do with why he was a bit off and if that wasn't the cause, she was at a loss.

As of right now, the brunette was waiting for Tom to come downstairs. The whole moving out situation was a topic they haven't talked about since she broke up with him however; it was painfully obvious how tense the atmosphere has become between them, which prompted her to give Mrs. Hudson's offer some more thought. After debating it for a while, she came to a common consensus with herself.

The dog, who sat next to Molly's feet underneath the table, got up the moment Tom walked into the room. The furry animal was greeted with a few pats on the head before he proceeded to get a cup of coffee. It didn't take him long to notice how quiet Molly was being. Glancing over at her, he tilted his head a bit before settling down at the table.

She acknowledged his presence by sending a small placid smile at him but soon glimpsed downward. He sighed, drumming his fingers against the wooden surface prior to voicing his question. "You have that 'I've been thinking' kind of look on your face. What's wrong?"

Molly nearly forgot how well he was able to read her. After brushing her hair behind her shoulders, she looked up at him, steadily meeting his eyes. Now probably wasn't the best time to bring this up considering they both had a job to get to within the hour, but she gave a reply regardless. "There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about."

He already knew what it was about, as her mild-mannered tone gave her away. He brought his cup to his lips and took a sip, nodding lightly as he did so. "And what would that be?" He kept his face smooth of emotion while asking, although he anticipated a roundabout reply, he was surprised she got straight to the point without even taking a second to pause.

"I know it's only been a few days, but I decided I'm going to stay somewhere else for a while and look for a more permanent flat while I'm there." Her brown hues didn't quite reach his anymore. "When I was over Sherlock's, Mrs. Hudson suggested I stay for a while, just until I can figure a few things out." For some peculiar reason, she didn't want to outright say the detective's name, as if mentioning him would trigger another argument.

"Do you mean stay in one of the available rooms or stay as in with him?" he asked, inclining forward a little. Was he really bothered by a detail as minor as that? Perhaps he only asked her because she was a bit hesitant to say much on the matter.

She noticed the darkening of his eyes at her words and didn't have to wonder what she had said had caused it. Was Sherlock a reminder of what they'd lost? In a way he could blame him because he was the reason their relationship was abandoned. She pressed her lips together at his inquiry, debating on the best way to go about giving a decent reply.

Molly let out an easy breath. Honesty was the only course she could take and it didn't feel right to lie, not when she knew he was still hurt by the breakup. "Yes, with him." She stopped there for a moment, allowing herself some time to recollect her thoughts. "Don't take this the wrong way, but we really need some space from one another. I know you have to feel the same."

The funny thing about her statement was it was true. Things didn't feel right between them, they weren't able to settle back into being friends when they were around each other so often, not to mention how clear the level of discomfort was. Spending some time apart could actually do them some good in the long run. "I do, but are you sure that's what you want?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked right away. There was no doubt held within her decision, besides the obvious fact that she and Sherlock would be seeing much more of one another, in the morning, when he decides to drop by the morgue, and at night.

Tom drew back some, reclining in his chair. He didn't feel that great about her decision, nonetheless that didn't give him the right to refute it in any way. "It's just that you'd be staying with him for a while and I've only met him twice… but he doesn't seem to be interested in much else than his work."

Deciding it best not to voice her opinions, at least not quite yet, she nodded. "I know he's not. I don't have an ulterior motive. I'm just staying because he said I could if I needed to." Her voice didn't shake, nor did she waver. Molly really didn't have a hidden agenda and she wanted him to know that, in a way it was necessary. She didn't leave him to run off with Sherlock, she ended things because she was still in love with him, knowing full well nothing would happen.

She had learned never to show weakness, never let others in unless you want them to see more of the person you truly are. When they were together, she was very open with him and now that sincerity was practically gone. Molly wasn't quite sure what she wanted Tom to see, for she wasn't even sure what he saw of her right at this moment. A girl foolishly following her heart or someone who broke his.

"If this is what you want to do then I have no say. I can't tell you what you should or shouldn't do," Tom told her, his tone withdrawn some. His gaze shifted once more to the table; however no further movement was made.

It wasn't easy for him to say, she could tell. She gave him an almost sad smile. "I'm sorry about everything, you know. I admit, I really wanted to marry you." Until Sherlock came back into the picture, still the thought made her feel awful about the whole thing. Rather than her dismayed look disappearing, it simply became more pronounced at her next sentence. "Thank you for understanding…" she said, choosing her words carefully.

"I've known you for over a year now, I know how sorry you are," he replied, catching her expression. In the end, he just wanted her to be happy, but she visibly wasn't alright. "Sometimes things have a weird way of working out. I'm not mad at you." He couldn't be and maybe that was the problem. Regardless, there wasn't much he could say at this point to lessen her feeling of regret.

"I don't know how you couldn't be but I won't ask you why if you don't want to explain." She left it open for him to give an answer on his own accord, believing that to be the best course to take on the matter.

Tom paused for a few moments and gave her a small smile. "Even though we're not together anymore, I would like to go back to being friends." That was about all he could offer, besides he didn't want her out of his life completely. "Obviously, we'd give each other some space first."

Her brows raised slightly in surprise, caught off guard by his response. She had expected a denial to go into further detail, not that. Molly knew how kind he was; in fact it was presented upon their first meeting. She was pleasantly stunned, so to speak. The brunette hadn't anticipated befriending him as quickly as she did, but she'd be lying if she said no to his request. After a while, she'd miss spending time with him as well. "I'd like that."

He gave a nod, feeling a little better knowing their friendship could at least be saved if nothing else. Before being able to say anything further on the topic, his eyes caught the clock. "You should probably head to work. You don't want to be late."

"Right," Molly muttered a bit. She stood from the table and gave him one last look. "I guess I'll see you when I get back." Not knowing what else to say, she could only utter those words. Once out the door, she held her hand out to try and catch a cab.

* * *

By the time she got out if Bart's it was late in the afternoon. Molly decided to stop by Baker Street to talk to Mrs. Hudson about a few things before actually making any official plans. She knocked lightly on the door, even though she was told to come in whenever. The older woman greeted her the second she walked in, as she was on her way down the stairs.

"Sherlock's not here at the moment," she briefly mentioned, assuming that's who Molly came to see. She came to a stop at the end of the staircase, throwing her arms up in a small motion apparently displeased about something. "He's here one minute and gone the next, it's impossible to keep up with him. And he left such a mess. I've told him before, I am not his housekeeper."

As the landlady shook her head, Molly shifted her position deciding not to remark on that. "I'm actually here to talk to you… about moving in. I just have a few questions." There were a small number of things weighing down on her choice, nothing that couldn't be dismissed after a few words, in any case her mind wouldn't be changed that hastily.

"Well, let's not talk out here, come in and have some tea, I just made it," Mrs. Hudson replied, already walking into her complex. She entered the kitchen and took out two cups. After pouring the liquid and placing everything down on the table, she sat across from Molly. "So, what is it that you want to talk about?"

A small sip was taken prior to thanking her. Her main objective was to converse with older woman, but she was starting to almost draw away from the idea. Since she was here, she couldn't really brush it off. "I was just wondering, from your point of view, how has Sherlock been since he came back?" She often found herself concerned, if not worried for some reason unbeknownst even to herself.

"He seems normal to me, a bit out of sorts sometimes but that's to be expected." A small shrug was given. Some wonder was held in her tone simply because she didn't expect the youngest Holmes to be their topic of discussion, however, she continued. "With John moved out, I really think it would do him some good to have some company every now and again. He's always so focused on cases though. Why are you asking?"

The brunette never anticipated him to be gone two years and come back without any differences, she was just curious if anyone else noticed. "I'm a bit concerned, is all. I was only hesitant to say yes right away because I wasn't sure if it was the best idea. I know I won't be staying forever." In a sense it felt wrong to come and go when he already had so many changes to get used to.

"Don't worry about that too much. I'm sure things will work out just fine." She waved it off very much used to the way Sherlock was. "I'm sure having you around will be nice, regardless of how long." A light grin presented itself, as she too would like having Molly here for a while.

She shouldn't have been surprised as she was at the woman's benevolence. Her lips turned upwards as well. Honestly, she wanted to remain here as long as possible, but it was, as previously stated, a temporary arrangement. Despite how nervous the whole ordeal made her, she couldn't turn back. "I guess all I really need to know is when the best time to move in is. Do you have a specific day or anything like that?"

"Whenever you're ready. There are papers to be signed and other things to discuss but that could be done later," Mrs. Hudson told her. Upon hearing the front door open and footsteps being taken, she rose from her seat. "I think that's Sherlock now. You should probably let him know what you've decided."

"Of course. Thank you again, for letting me stay and for the tea," Molly replied before doing as she suggested. The doctor left the room and took a small breath before treading up to the next floor. She wanted to make sure all of this was still okay with him. He really was acting different, and it wasn't solely because he was gone for a long time. Something else was bugging him and she was intending to find out at some point.

The door was slightly left open, allowing her space to peer inside. The brunette didn't see him, so she knocked a few times prior coming in. The room was untidy, probably more so before Mrs. Hudson came to clean some of the chaos. She spotted the detective rummaging through a stack of papers, apparently unable to hear her. "Sherlock," Molly said a tad louder.

He made a small wave motion but didn't look up from what he was doing. "Didn't know you were stopping by," he muttered, moving to a different stack. Of course, the documents all had something to do with the current case.

"It seems like you've been busy," she stated, getting no response from him once again. Nonetheless, Molly paced a few steps into the room. Her head tilted to the side, visibly trying to make sense of what he was doing. She didn't want to mention it, but if she was thinking correctly it seemed like he was ignoring her, or at least trying to.

"Sorry to run out after you came, but there's something else I have to look into." He completely evaded her gaze when heading to the door, which he was well aware how quickly she would pick up on that factor. Just as he was almost out of the room, he felt her grab onto his arm. Her grip was loose as she hardly put any effort into stopping him, yet it caused his motion to pause almost immediately.

"Wait," Molly said, slightly stunned by her own actions. He was avoiding her, although she was clueless to why he would do such a thing. Was he doing the same thing for the past few days? Releasing her hold, she stepped back some and inclined her head a little. Now she could feel his orbs on her. "Did I do something wrong? I don't want to assume I did, but it seems like you don't want to talk to me."

He was silent for a moment. The only reason he was keeping his distance in the first place was to try and get his mind off of her, but it was reeling the second he set eyes on her. He could hear the hurt in her voice and moved a bit uncomfortably. "No, I didn't mean to give you that impression."

Molly recognized his tone and it caused her brown hues to shoot up almost instantly, it was the same one he used when he apologized to her a few Christmases ago. Her immediate response to his statement would have been a question, an automatic 'then why?', but she stopped herself. Perhaps it's the way he no longer has that bold look on his face that halts her, instead of going for an alternative inquiry, her words come out of her mouth before she can think it though. "Well, you did."

He gave a small smile at her frankness; somewhat amazed at how easily it formed on his lips, although he could tell she didn't intend to say something so outright. Was this what it always felt like to be in Molly's company when there was no one else around? When it was just the two of them? Would it change if someone came into the room? "Not very shocking," he mentioned his expression calm. "I tend to do that a lot." And he doesn't regret admitting it, as it was a clear fact known to both of them

"I didn't mean to say it like that, actually." Her cheeks tinged a light pink color due from a small amount of embarrassment. "I know it wasn't done intentionally. Granted, and don't get me wrong, I feel like something's not right and you just don't want to tell me." She didn't say it to hurt him, it's just the truth and it's somewhat a sad one, but reality all the same. "I mean, sometimes I think I might have an idea but then you go on and do something I can't quite figure out." Like right now.

Her words were softly spoken, because she can respect his space. But her confusion is mixed with so many other things she can hardly think straight, but Molly doesn't want to, or maybe she can't, force an answer out of him.

In the end, she knew words only got them so far, especially when he wanted to be distant, but his eyes often spoke of things he would never say out loud, whenever they didn't have that glint of excitement each and every time a new assignment entranced him. The brunette wondered, and not for the first time, why she out of all people could see so much of him but then lose it within a second.

"A lot on my mind," he replied with a shrug, as it sounds somewhat silly out loud and a tad of an understatement, he always had too much running through his thoughts. "I'm sure that's not the answer you wanted to hear though." Because her interest in him somewhat fascinated and confused him, he couldn't exactly bring himself to tell her she was the one weighing down his ability to think straight. That's why avoidance appeared to be the best course to take.

She gave a soft smile, shaking her head at his response, the look on her face seemed incongruent, but not out of place. She bit down on her lip. "It's not, but it's okay." Molly paused and nodded a few times. "The reason I came by was to tell you that I decided to stay for a while, if it was still okay with you, of course."

"Oh," he replied, raising his head. He had said he didn't mind and that remained true, but before he wasn't feeling so… out of place, so to say, when with her. And it was getting worse however, something in him wouldn't allow him to take back anything. Maybe whatever was going on would disappear.

Her expression relaxed, seeing as his reply was lacking words. "I don't plan on staying an extensive amount of time." It's the only reassurance she can give, strangely enough she felt like she had to. "I don't know how long it's going to take me to find someplace else to live, but I promise to stay out of your way when you're working." After all, she was merely going to be a guest.

Sherlock shifted his hands into his pockets, needing to do something with them. "If anything, I'm probably going to be more of a bother. I'm sure John mentioned a few of my annoying habits on his blog, although he knows I hate it when he does things like that." Actually, he pretty much disliked anything written about him unless it was concerning a case.

"If it makes you feel any better, he doesn't do it very often," Molly added, knowing exactly how he felt about the whole thing, for that too was revealed online and Sherlock has said it to her before. "Besides, I'm quite fond of the violin."

That was one thing he didn't know. He realized at this moment he actually knew next to nothing about Molly Hooper. Despite what he could deduce and read so easily from her, there was so much mystery surrounding the girl. It left him bemused, but also fairly interested. She is and always has been an enigma and he hated simply not _knowing_ something. So, it wasn't extremely odd that he couldn't figure why she was attracted to someone who could be so cold and calculating. Because really, why him of all people?

"I guess we shouldn't run into any problems." She could do better than Sherlock Holmes. Clearly, Molly was capable of getting attention from other guys, ones who weren't, as he stated to her, sociopaths. "How are things with you and Tom? He knows you're staying here, right?" Without much reason, he found himself wanting to know what was going on between the two of them.

She gave him a small shake of her head at the suppressed curiosity in his voice. "Yes, he does. We both agreed that we needed some space. It was getting a bit awkward, but I'm hoping that will go away soon." Her gaze left him again, but it wasn't intentional. "We're going to try and be friends again, I think we can get back to that after some time."

Just by her wording, Sherlock knew Tom was the one who suggested it. And it was said so soon after they broke up? He was aware that someone else was the reason their marriage wasn't happening. Obviously, he wasn't as over her as she thought him to be. He, however, kept his mouth shut on the matter.

Molly shuffled her position a bit, again feeling too many emotions at once and it was hard to straighten them all out. "Since tomorrow is Saturday, I was thinking I could start moving some of my things here." She glanced up, watching as he stood in silence, keeping his orbs on her. Maybe that was too soon. She quickly tried to fix her sentence. "Or I could wait a while longer; I don't expect you to drop everything for-"

She immediately stopped speaking when a hand was placed on her shoulder. The brunette didn't even realize he moved. His touch was most likely meant to calm her down but it only increased her nerves and overload her senses. The man seemed to evoke every fiber of her being without even trying. Her face felt incredibly hot but she couldn't get her mouth to move.

"Tomorrow is fine, Molly. You don't need to get so worked up." His eyes softened the slightest. He could have just spoken over her, yet instead his first instinct was to go a more gentle way, which was fairly unusual to ponder about. As he drew his hand back, it lightly grazed the side of her cheek. It was accidental yet minor spark sensation caused him to place it back into his pocket right away. This girl really was getting the better of him and he didn't know what to make of it.

Her eyes closed for a moment as a subtle sigh escaped her lips. He really was clueless when it came to anything regarding romance or how he made her feel. Molly shook it off, attempting to regain a composed look, although she failed miserably. "I just wasn't sure if you were alright with me staying so soon after knowing John isn't coming back." She hoped she wasn't bringing up a sore topic.

"You seem overly concerned on the fact that he isn't always going to be around," Sherlock replied, angling his head towards her. Because she knew how he truly felt about it, that he'd never admit to missing his best friend. However, he accepted his marriage to Mary and knew they'd be happy together, their upcoming child included.

"More like worried about you… I mean how you're handling it." That didn't come out like she wanted. She pressed her lips together almost wanting to shake her head and scold herself for saying too much. Her hands soon came together, knowing how late it was. "But I should get going, you were busy after all. Can I ask what it was you were doing?"

The sudden topic change was noticed, but it seemed to be better this way. "Going through previous records, trying to connect a few things, nothing exceedingly important…" He rubbed the back of his neck as he trailed off. He didn't know what else to say, the case wasn't distracting him like he hoped it would. His mind kept wondering, which was very frustrating.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then," Molly added with a small nod. He said a few words similar to hers before he stepped to the side, allowing her to pass by him. The way he moved, practically stiff, almost made her stop and turn back around, yet she kept walking. It was hard not to take everything he did into consideration, but lately he appeared more unreadable than normal.

Sherlock Holmes, by no means, was ever an open book. He was so many things at once and despite her ability to see past the aspects he wanted to hide, Molly still found it a bit difficult to understand him completely. She might not know exactly what kind of a guy he was, or what caused him to do certain things, but she knew he wasn't a bad person. He couldn't be, not when she'd seen such good in him once upon a time, and traces of it even now.

The moment the door closed Sherlock sat down on the sofa. The few piles of papers were left abandoned to the side. His mind couldn't possibly focus on work. Seeing Molly shouldn't be muddling his thought process or diverting his concentration. Even though she wasn't in the room anymore, he could still feel it, the increase of his heartbeat, an off feeling in his stomach, the want to be near to her.

It was overbearing, something he never truly had to deal with in the past. The worst part was no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make any of it go away and every time he saw her again; she reestablished all of it. Sherlock ruffled his hair in slight aggravation before falling back onto the cushion.

* * *

**I hope everyone's looking forward to the next chapter, which will be out as soon as possible. Now that Molly will be staying with Sherlock, I can pick up the pace a bit, while still keeping it as slow of course, after all timing is very important. Please review!**


	6. Domino Effect

**I'm surprised I already have over one hundred people following this story. I didn't think I'd have so many this soon. Thanks again for all those people who took the time to leave a review, the feedback really helps when it comes to writing. I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

It was around ten o'clock and Sherlock was nearly pacing about the room. He had to do something while waiting. It was nearly a half hour ago that he contacted his Homeless Network, trying to get them to narrow down the search. Far too many people could be the ringleader of the latest murders. He needed more information, some kind of way to eliminate the number of people.

While concentrating on this small dilemma, as he surely expected to have more data to go off of by now, Molly would be here soon. She was moving in and after yesterday's encounter with her, he was lost on how to approach the situation. First he'd have to figure out exactly what had a hold of him. How she managed to just make him feel so completely off.

That's what really confused Sherlock. Molly wasn't doing anything different than she normally would; she didn't try to take his breath away and still managed to do it with ease. He inwardly scolded himself for thinking something so rash. All those silly sensations only point to one thing, however he was not one to succumb to something so rudimentary. But, still… how could he ignore the dull throbbing in his chest from simply looking at the girl, from just being near her? Certainly, this was never a problem before. It was utterly ridiculous to even consider.

Besides, he could act normal around her, most of the time. Maybe whatever was going on would just disappear. That was only wishful thinking. His mind has been Molly Hooper centric for days, he was lucky if he could focus on the case for an hour without her popping back up, interrupting his ability to hold his attention to one thing. Mycroft's assignment was never going to be concluded at this rate. John would be back within a day or two, but that did him no good right now.

His feet finally came to a stop at the window. A good size portion of Baker Street could be seen from this level, regardless of that minor detail, his gaze was directed right below him. He saw Molly stepping out of a cab, a few bags in her hands. The smallest smile came to his lips upon seeing her, one he didn't even realize occupying his face until it dropped the moment Tom came into view.

It appeared as if he was only helping her with her things, not coming inside. Strangely enough he was bothered seeing them together, yet he pushed it away. As far as he was concerned it didn't mean anything. He sat down in his chair, rubbing his temples, attempting to get his thoughts to stay straight. If this was going to keep happening, it would be problematic.

He ceased his fickle movement when knocking was heard a few moments later. Getting up, he opened the door, sidestepping to let her to walk past him before shutting it. "Is that everything you brought?" he questioned upon seeing a little amount of luggage. He was assuming she'd bring a lot more, then again she wasn't planning to stay forever.

"I had other things but they were too big to carry over and they'd probably take up too much room. Tom said I can leave them at his place for now," Molly replied a bit out of breath. "Where should I put these?"

"John's room," he mentioned, making a small motion towards the area. As she disappeared from view, he shook his head, annoyed at his inability to stop himself from feeling so many unusual emotions at once. He brought his hands together, resting his fingers against his mouth. The minimal act normally used when thinking also helped clear his mind. With a heavy exhale, he was able to regain some control.

With hands free from bags, Molly came back into the room, already starting to talk. Her nerves were a bit haywire just knowing she was going to be alone with him. "I should probably let Toby out and let him get used to this place. He hates being stuck in his carrier for a long time." She knelt down, letting the fluffy cat slowly make his way out.

"It's best if we just let him get used to the transition on his own," Sherlock said, sitting back down in his chair. He watched the feline for a moment prior to shifting his gaze back to Molly. He didn't quite know what to say now; normally she'd be over for a specific reason, hence a topic of discussion.

Her walk was almost tentative as she took a few steps into the kitchen. Most of his equipment for a multitude of experiments was placed about the counter and table. "Do you mind if I use the phone?" Molly questioned, swaying her hands together.

"You know, you don't have to ask," Sherlock said, drawing back a breath. Her wide-eyed innocence, the sweetness in her trust, the way she always looks at him with the upmost affection stopped him from turning down any request, even one as simple as that. And it wasn't all bad, he didn't mind those aspects. It was the fact that she made it easy to let down some of those walls he so carefully placed that concerned him.

But as she stood across the room, seeming to be calling another place about canceling wedding arrangements, the detective could sense the change in the ambiance around him. He could almost fall into it if it wasn't for the awareness he constantly holds no matter where he goes or who he's with.

His hues are suddenly directed away from her the moment pressure was felt on his leg. He looked down to see Toby staring up at him with wide eyes. Moving his hands around the cat's stomach, he placed him back on the ground. "Stay," he said with some uncertainty, only to have him jump back onto his lap.

"He's not a dog, Sherlock," Molly said with a half giggle as she placed her hand over the receiver. "He normally dislikes strangers; I'm surprised he took such a liking to you so quickly." At his bothered expression, she held back the need to laugh some more. "Just pet him for a while and he'll be satisfied when you put him back on the floor."

He canted his head to the side, a sigh fleeing his lips. Sherlock did as she suggested, letting Toby get comfortable. When Molly turned and started talking again the sound of her laughter echoed back, ringing in his ears as if she was still going. Beautiful came to mind, but he quickly swatted the term away. This was not the time to be letting anything remotely similar to that word pass through his thoughts.

With a rounded turn of his neck, Sherlock shifted his attention back to the cat, which unknowingly was going to be named after him at first before Molly changed her mind on the matter.

A couple of minutes passed before the phone was hung up and Molly came back into the room. "Who would think it'd be so hard for one person to understand the there is no more wedding," she expressed in mild complaint. She settled down her annoyance on the subject and took a seat on the couch. "Anyway, how's the case going? I assume you're still working on it."

"At this point I'm waiting for more information." If Mycroft didn't insist on keeping this one quiet, he could have found suspect by now but he couldn't rightfully criticize the agreement they made concerning the job. But if something wasn't found soon he might stray from the confines of their discussion.

"I'm sure you'll find him. You always do," she told him. Molly repeatedly found herself believing in him no matter the situation. Perhaps that was why she was so ready to do whatever he needed, because she truly held him in high regard.

"More often than not," Sherlock replied. "Unfortunately, I can't handle this one like the rest. If I went beyond my Homeless Network and a few certain individuals, the details of the case would surely end up in the newspaper the next morning. Reporters would do just about anything." That one encounter with Kitty Riley was enough to prove that fact.

The brunette nodded, tangling her fingers together. "If you want help with something, I wouldn't mind. Unless, you plan on working this one with John when he gets back sometime tomorrow, then I'll just be at the morgue like normal if you need me." Wouldn't he seek the army doctor's assistance before hers? They're best friends and were always together, so it wouldn't surprise her.

"I'm not sure he's going to be working with me all the time, he's married now. He's going to want to be with Mary." That was true enough, they were happy and John wouldn't go running off for a case unless it was necessary. Sherlock looked up, his gaze steadily fixated on her. "Besides, you've always been helpful, don't underestimate your importance."

Again he mentioned her level of meaning, but she felt undeserving for the most part. "I don't feel like I do all that much, just show you bodies when you ask. It's no big deal." A question sprang to her lips, but she swallowed it, wanting to allow him to speak. She stifled her worry and confusion at his statement; she could express more and wanted to but not right now.

He was a famous detective while she simply worked at a hospital. Honestly, she'd do whatever he asked of her, clearly dedicated. Molly couldn't help but wonder what extent his 'you do count, you've always counted and I've always trusted you' went to. She wanted it to mean more than it did, but that was just fantasy. He's not suddenly going to fall for her, things like that don't just happen.

"In retrospect, perhaps not but it matters to me. You're one of the people I can trust," he stated, with a shrug as if it was the simplest thing in the world to say. He caught her eyes again and the way she's looking at him, no longer holding a perplexed expression, merely taking in everything he said.

There's something akin to reliance in Sherlock's eyes, and Molly's wasn't sure what to make of it. While she was flattered, she wanted to shake her head because she also knew he'd tell her not to trust in everything, in people, so easily because more often than not, they'll let you down. And in a way, she found that rather sad.

Regardless, the corner of her lips pull upward. She realized how often she lowers her own significance, but it was hard not to sometimes. "You're not the type of person who depends on others easily, so thank you." Molly glanced away, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. It was silly to blush over an unpretentious thing such as that; however, it was an involuntary reaction.

Lost on what to say or why she was expressing gratitude in the first place, his brows furrowed. Shouldn't it be the other way around? "You know, sometimes you can be a bit too nice for you own good, Molly. My opinion, there's not enough people like that." His facial features softened a little. He was quick to recognize he was starting to let his guard down around her and wasn't quite sure if that was a bad thing or not.

She was rendered a tad speechless. It's not every day Sherlock Holmes says things without pretense and with such an honest face as well. She can't deny the accuracy of his words, knowing how he's come to such a conclusion as he was constantly surrounded by criminals. Her brown hues flickered between them. "No, I suppose there isn't. That's just the way I am, I guess."

He paused for a few seconds, letting a silence rest between them. He didn't need to hear her reply, but when it's finally spoken out loud, it didn't only confirm his suspicions, but raised a certain respect towards her. She was always honest with him. Sherlock knows better than most how difficult it is to admit it, confess that you're not in the best situation. If he was being candid and something similar to Moriarty was to come up, he wasn't sure he'd be able to admit it out loud again.

Just from gazing at her sweetened smile, he felt it all over again, everything he wanted to push away. There was a tug-of-war feeling on the concept. Caring for another person shouldn't be wrong, but at the same time it wasn't something he felt very worthy of, at least not from her. Veering his attention, he cleared his throat and changed the subject. "Since you brought up helping me, there's actually something I meant to get to last night, but ran out of time."

Really, he was getting too frustrated at his failed attempt to stop thinking of her to fully concentrate on anything work related and therefore, nothing got done. And he could only blame himself for that one.

Molly didn't mind. Maybe it's because he's Sherlock and she'd used to him altering from one subject to another. Either way, she relaxed her shoulders, knowing no matter how high-strung she was, lending a hand when he asked wasn't something she could deny. "Sure, what do you need?"

Lifting the sleepy feline from his lap, the detective placed him back on the ground. "Hold on just a moment." Sherlock disappeared into his room prior to coming out with two boxes. Once they were placed in the middle of the ground, he opened them and gestured for her to come over. "Those days I was in and out, I picked up a few newspapers I haven't had the chance to go through."

"There's more than just a few here," Molly mentioned, starting to take them out after him. From what she could tell, most of them were dated back a few years ago. "Where did you get all of these? Let me guess, from someone who owes you a favor?" She could see how his focus was suddenly so intact with his work, as if he was having a hard time keeping something out of his thoughts.

"No actually, I didn't know the person, but she willing to give them to me," Sherlock replied, momentarily glancing up at her. "Although she went on a bit about other cases I worked on, all I had to do was ask."

"Oh, she liked you then?" Molly's voiced dropped in disappointment as did her eyes. Of course she wasn't the only girl who has a crush on him, but by now she considered it something deeper than that but still; she had to wonder if he cared about a detail as small as that one in the first place.

"Didn't really notice," Sherlock absently told the brunette. He started placing a few papers on the ground, sifting through them rather quickly. "What we're looking for should be in the first page. Anything that seems remotely similar to the most recent murders will do."

Everything she wanted to say on the topic was kept inside. It wasn't so much in his actions when she picked up on it; the giveaway was his tone, proving that whether the stranger had feelings for him or not, didn't matter to him at all. She soon nodded and shifted her attention back to the assignment. Pulling out a couple, Molly held one up. "You mean something like this?"

"Precisely," he replied, taking it from her. "If you find any more place them over there." Sherlock pointed to the right side of the boxes and continued searching. They soon finished going through the boxes, leaving a reasonable pile on the floor.

"What exactly does all of this tell us?" Molly questioned, skimming through an article. The crimes were alike, but what was it that connected them? She was sure he knew and like always kept it to himself until the last minute.

"Looks like there really are two people," Sherlock revealed, with a spark of interest, seeming to go around her question. After visiting the homes of the most recent victims, he had a feeling there was more than just one person involved. "Obviously they leave a pretty clean trail; either way this brings us a step closer to finding out who they are."

Molly turned towards him, tilting her head to the side. "How did you figure all that out? Didn't your brother only mention one person?" He was bright, there's no doubt about it and his ability to see what other didn't was impressive. She could just sit there all day watching him work; Molly was more attributed to being on the sidelines since he never asked her to do much in the past.

"Essentially that's what we both thought, until my Homeless Network dug a bit deeper. One commits the murders the other handles the money and the reason for the newspapers, just another thing to prove my point. She wants people to know they exist." As he goes to grab a paper, his movement stopped. "Why do cats like to lie on anything you put on the ground? Can you do something about him?"

With a small sight directed towards Toby, Molly lifted him up and placed him on her lap. "Sorry, about that. I guess he wants to be around people more since he doesn't have to hide from a dog. You were saying?"

He got right back to business and points out a specific section before passing it over to her. "As you can see on the newspaper the articles written are more like praising, in subtle context while cited anonymously. Unmistakably the woman involved is writing them, you can tell by the format used, it also proves whoever they are, they're rich enough to bribe the companies to keep their names out. Even the paper that came out a few days ago had something in it, but it wasn't on the front. As Mycroft said suspected, they were trying to keep this problem low-key."

"So you were able to make that connection because the victim was murdered at the same time the money was being transferred, he couldn't have done them both at once." And that made sense, didn't it? While Sherlock looked into the older scenarios, he was able to find a link. Just another reason he detective skills were so widely known.

"Yes, your autopsies were enough to clear that part up. Now for the reason. Our killer is on a slaughter spree and siphoning money with a goal in mind. Perhaps it has something to do with revenge, maybe they're trying to get back at those who they felt wronged them," he explained, while bringing his hands together. "The rich tend to make many enemies amongst their own."

"Even if that is what's going on, how do we narrow the number down and catch them?" That was indeed the most difficult and dangerous part of the operation, especially since he had to stay out of the press, which he would likely be spotted by a member of the media if Sherlock approaches homes belonging to a higher classed member of society.

"We make a comprised list and go from there. We could interrogate whoever published the articles but that would likely tip them off, they're going to be loyal after all. If I can get ahold of Lestrade he can pull up some records for me. Then we wait." Standing he took hold of his cell and typed out a quick text.

Molly stood up as well, glancing at the mess on the floor. "Shouldn't we clean this up?" According to Mrs. Hudson, he always left things lying around. It wasn't a bother, considering the fact that is wasn't her place to criticize.

"Leave it, I might need them later." He waved it off before stepping onto his chair and lowering down into a sitting position. The assignment was starting to come together, but he needed more information than that. It seemed like relying on Greg was about all he could do for now, although he much rather finish it as soon as possible.

Molly headed towards the kitchen with Toby at her feet, taking hold of a can of food she placed on the counter earlier. "Where do you keep the can opener?" she asked, not wanting to rummage through his things looking for it.

"Drawer closest to the fridge," he told her, while reading the reply he received. "Lestrade said he need more time to get permission to collect their files. That's hours gone to waste, he should just take them." A small huff was made; nothing could be done at the moment.

Just as she finished placing the food on a separate plate, since the can opener he had left sharp edges, Molly turned to face him. Annoyance was detectable across his features but he was calm as well. Sherlock seemed to be very good at keeping his emotions intact, from what she could tell. "What do you normally do at this point?"

His head tilted the slightest bit. He hadn't even had the foresight to try and think of what he was going to do once the case drove him into a corner such as this or when things settled down. It just hit him right now. He was here with her, alone and would be for perhaps several days, excluding work. His mind went blank in the matter of a few seconds. He was already having a hard time dealing with whatever was going on inside of him, this wasn't helping matters.

Of course, his silence caused her to look at him with concern. Her brown orbs could drill right through his unease, he had no line of defense other than keeping his distance, but she always saw right through it just as well. He needed to think of something else besides the case to occupy his time. He couldn't remember having to try and keep her at arm's length before, normally she didn't affect him like this.

As nothing else was said, she realized he was staring off in one direction for a while. After having a mini debate with herself about it, the brunette approached the detective. "Sherlock, are you okay?"

Her hand was softly placed on his shoulder, which caused him to suddenly jump up, attempting to avoid contact. However, his action proved to be worse off as he was now standing close to her. "I'm fine." His voice is a bit stiff as he replied. "I just remembered, there's something else I need to take care of." Escape was his best way out; in fact it was the only thing he could think of.

He absolutely hated how he couldn't withstand the feelings he got when next to her, mostly because part of him wanted them to remain. At an attempt to leave, he rushed past her only to stop once the can she was holding hit the ground. He was so desperate to go; he didn't realize he banged right into her shoulder. It merely took him a second to take notice of the small cut on her hand.

Sherlock swallowed and let out a heavy breath. Due to him wanting to avoid his own realizations and perhaps growing affection for Molly, he ended up hurting her. That was the last thing he wanted to do. "I'm sorry." His tone, usually strong and held in confidence, was weaker, almost too quiet to hear.

"It's fine, it's not deep or anything, only stings a little. I can manage on my own if you really have to go." She didn't want him to. She wanted him to stay, to be close. But like always she expected him push away and head out the door like he normally would. Surprisingly, he didn't, instead he brought her over to the sink and turned on the water.

"Rinse the blood off, I'll be right back," he told her before disappearing into the bathroom, coming out a minute later. "I guess it's not all that shocking I don't have bandages. Just put some pressure on it, since the cut isn't deep it will heal fine on its own." He took hold of her injured hand and placed a small towel over the area, lightly holding it there, despite telling her to do so.

She saw a change in his eyes, his actions as well. Sherlock's fingers, although rough and slightly calloused, were gently grasping her hand and his orbs were so filled with so much… she couldn't even find a word to describe exactly what she saw in them. Her brown hues were pulled towards his face, which looked like a mix between two different emotions.

Since he didn't draw away yet, Molly spoke up. "Don't take this the wrong way but it's like you're afraid to get close to people." Taking a risk, she placed her free hand on top of his. "It's okay to let someone in and it doesn't have to be me. I can tell something's wrong. I don't know what or whether it's good or bad, regardless I'll listen. I'll even back off if that's what you want."

He blinked a few times, reduced speechless yet again by Molly Hooper. He wanted to say he didn't need help that she was wrong yet the words didn't come out. Sherlock didn't pull away from her touch, it felt warm and welcoming a sensation he though lost to him. "I… Everything's fine."

She knew he wasn't being truthful, but kept her lips pressed shut. They were just there with one another and she wanted more than anything to remain close like this, with the only guy she really desired to be with.

Sherlock glanced at her, the proximity causing his throat to go dry. "Thinking about it now, I should probably get something to put on that. I shouldn't be gone long," he mentioned, in a withheld voice. Almost regrettably, he slid his hands away from hers. The movement was slow considering the injury, but also because there was a part of him that didn't want to let go.

A frown tugged her lips down as he hurried away and out the door. The moment, no matter how tender, was fleeting. He was trying to get away from whatever had a hold on him, she could see that much. Perhaps he left because she was right and he was closing off more than normal.

Sighing, she placed the towel back on and leaned against the counter. Ever a mystery, Sherlock was proving to be more of a complex puzzle. Backing off might be the best course to take on this one, but something told her not to give up just yet. She'd give him the space her sought to have while still trying to understand. It was odd to see that kind of reaction from him, almost as if he was afraid or maybe that wasn't the correct term to use.

For some reason, she was getting the feeling that she was the cause of whatever was going on. It was pointless to pounder about but if she really was the reason, how could she find out for sure? Sherlock wasn't going to say anything. Molly supposed she'd just have to wait and see how he was when he came back. From the look on his face, the brunette figured he'd be back shortly, but leave again.

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**Next chapter will be less focused on the case and more centered on gaining progress on Sherlock and Molly's relationship. I just needed to get a few things out of the way before that could happen. I'm going to have to come up with some kind of situation where Sherlock can't keep leaving. He can't avoid her forever. And I think I already have something in mind, so until next time please review.**


	7. It's a Matter of Choice

**Finally got around to posting this chapter. Thanks for all the reviews, I think that was the most I've received so far. I love hearing feedback, so keep them coming. Some definite progress will be happening soon, still trying to make sure it's not too much at one time though, which can be a bit difficult. Enjoy the chapter!**

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The sound of music filled the room for hours the next day. Sherlock picked up his bow and violin and hadn't put it down since he woke up. Molly didn't mind the melody or hearing it for this long, it was just the fact that they hardly said anything to one another after he came back yesterday. She could endure the silence just fine, but it was the look in his eyes that troubled her.

She felt wrong interrupting him, so she spend her time doing other things such as skimming through the paper to see how many places were available and even headed out for a little while to pick up a few things. Sherlock didn't keep a lot of food in the kitchen, as he apparently didn't eat all that much and wouldn't when working on a case. She wasn't very surprised to see a few body parts, fingers, toes even, stored away in the fridge. Molly was aware they were used for experiments but if she knew where he was keeping everything she gave him, she would have at least kept them in the morgue until they were needed.

Regardless, they now had enough groceries packed within the kitchen for a couple of days. The brunette found it interesting that playing the instrument helped him think, she would have thought it was the opposite way, that concentrating on hitting the right note would distract his thoughts. As impressed by his skills as she was, Molly figured he'd be stopping soon but it seemed like he was intent on going until he resolved whatever was keeping his attention.

He was positioned near the window, gazing out at the street every so often. Her eyes were on him for a moment, watching his movement. It was a captivating thing to behold, seeing his deep absorption, hearing the lovely tune take over the flat. Not wanting him to catch hold of her gaze she somewhat reluctantly altered her orbs until they landed on her cat.

Toby was fast asleep on his chair, curled up into a small ball. Molly smiled a bit at that. Sherlock didn't seem to mind letting him sit there at all, although she was sure he'd shoo him away if he wanted to use it.

Molly then frowned a bit, realizing that he hadn't had one meal today or yesterday. After some small debate with herself, the brunette decided to approach him. She lightly tapped him on the shoulder, wearing an apologetic smile for interrupting. "I know you're probably going to say no, but I figured I'd ask if you want something to eat anyway."

Sherlock swung his instrument to his side, tilting his head towards her. "Maybe later," Sherlock replied, not wanting to turn down the offer completely. His lips curved upward a bit but soon his head lowered as he suddenly started moving. He walked past her and further into the room before facing her again. A wave of remorse hit him once her wrapped injury was seen. "How's your hand? Again, I am sorry about that."

She played with one of the frayed edges of the bandage, keeping her gaze averted, his tone weighing heavily down on her. She didn't want him to feel bad, it was an accident. After a moment, she turned to look at him. In his eyes she found comfort, but also guilt, a pain so raw it made her want to take back coming over to ask him a question in the first place.

He tried to hide his emotions, Molly knew that but he couldn't shadow them from everyone. Mycroft could pick him apart and yet he was always looking out for his younger brother despite the detective's annoyance on the matter. John was his best friend, the person who kept him balanced. And what exactly did she do for him? Whatever she could whether it was asked or not. Sherlock was never good as admitting he needed help.

"Really, it's okay. Like I said before, it's not deep," she finally replied. She tried to keep her voice steady, though she wasn't sure if he could detect the slight wave of disquiet in them, which was on his behalf not her own. Shifting almost uncomfortably under his stare, her fingers were brought to her lips. "Do you have any plans for today, concerning the case, I mean?"

His head rose up, realizing why she changed the subject. Maybe he was grateful for it, but his concern for her still rested. The look on his face softened, yet he attempted to maintain his usual expression. "No, Lestrade said he needs more time. I guess I have nothing else to do than think of a few things on my own. I can't really do much without more details though."

Her gaze flickered back down to the ground, before she let out a subtle sigh. She knew those eyes of his were reading her reaction, picking up on every small impassive action made. But she recognized that look on his face all too well, often donning one herself when dealing with demanding people or working got to be too much. He was very stressed out, although she could only pick up on half of the problem.

"Maybe you should take a break from all this work, you've been at it for days now," she suggested, hoping he'd agree. Molly ambled toward him, stopping a few feet away. "I'm sure your brother won't mind." And even if he did it's not like he'd know, besides working too much wasn't good for anyone and Sherlock tended to overdo it at times.

He canted his head, taking a second to mull it over. As of right now he couldn't stop the next killing without the needed information and if he was calculating right, which he was, they still had a while before anything would happen. So, maybe he should settle with her proposal, granted it left one simple question. "And what would you suggest doing instead?"

"Well, I was just wondering and you don't have to if you don't want to but…" Molly started to say as she approached the table, lightly plucking the strings of the musical instrument he placed down a few moments ago. "I've always wanted to know how to play the violin." Really she became interested after hearing him play the first time, but for now she'd keep that to herself.

"Oh," he replied, pausing for a second. He wasn't expected that, then again she stated before how fond she was of the sound. Sherlock decided if it was just for a little while, he could afford letting some of his walls fall and let whatever feelings he was dealing with settle. "I suppose I could teach you some of the basics. It's not exactly something that takes a few hours to master."

Her brows arched slightly in surprise, she didn't really anticipate him saying okay so quickly. "I don't expect to know everything in one day. Are you sure you don't mind?" She couldn't suppress her smile as much as she would have liked, but doing anything with him made her happy. Maybe that was why she always dropped whatever she was doing just to help him.

Sherlock suppressed the urge to lower his voice to match hers, it was almost instinctive reaction. However, he wanted to make it clear to her that she didn't have to be so uneasy around him. In the back of his head, he vaguely wondered if he was doing the same thing, being on edge that is. What was it that kept drawing him closer? In her presence he felt a form of solace, when his mind didn't feel so sporadic.

It would be easy to fall under whatever spell she had over him but he couldn't afford a moment of weakness. That's not how Sherlock was, he was logical, decisive, and cunning, he didn't need those types of feelings. Pushing them away never seemed to work, in retrospect they came back worse every time. Rather than focusing on anything remotely related, he put on a small smile, almost managing to keep his tone and voice even. "It's really not a problem."

Molly bit down on her lip, giving a slight nod. She heard all the rumors of his cold attitude but never believed them to be true, moments like this proved them all wrong. To see him almost awkwardly fumbling over something so simple made him seem more human than he probably wanted. Honestly, it made him look better in her eyes, proved he had all the qualities she already knew he possessed.

"First we'll begin with how to hold the bow," he mentioned, handing it to her. He couldn't help but be slightly amused at her reaction. It was fairly obvious she never even attempted to pick up a violin before. "Start by gently laying the middle part of your index finger on the grip, the slightly padded part of the stick, which is a few inches above the tightening knob. Place the tip of your pinky on the flat part of the stick near the base, keeping it slightly curved."

She closed her eyes for a moment, telling herself to concentrate, which was difficult to do with him so close. Molly did as he instructed, a bit unsure if she got it right and she also had to be mindful of the bandage on her hand, although she doubted this would do any harm. It looked so simple when he played, almost as if it came second nature to him. "Like this?"

"Relax more, you hand should be loose," he explained, moving in front of her. She was tense and since she kept directing her gaze away he knew it was because of him rather than the idea of playing the instrument. "And don't let your palm touch the bow this reduces the control you have over the movement that becomes gradually important as you increase your skills."

"Maybe you should switch your profession to violin instructor," she lightly joked. Molly felt her nervousness getting better of her. His deep tone always caused a shiver to run down her spine. These things were nothing new to endure but the felt different each moment, like when you first talk to the person you have a crush on. Taking a breath, the brunette released her grip.

"There's no fun in that. I'd go stir-crazy without a good murder to solve," he replied. Taking the instrument in his hands, he decided to show her this part. "When it comes to holding the violin you also don't need a tight grip. It's not that complicated, just rest the lower back of it on your collar bone and holds it in place with your jaw. This will stop it from sliding off your shoulder." Pulling it away from himself, he passed it over to her. "Now you try."

Holding onto the wooden instrument, she attempted to do as he did. With her gaze directed away she could no longer see him, but she could hear the sound of his breathing and as much as that calmed her it also threw her off kilter a bit. "I'm not doing it right, am I?" Molly asked, letting her shoulders fall. Her mind kind of blanked on what he showed her.

Without saying anything he came around and repositions her hands for her. At the contact he was reminded of last night, it was the softness of her skin that brought back the words she said. He was afraid to get close to people, but probably for a different reason than people expected. He pushed others away and only let in a few but it was never all the way. Something always stopped him.

Sherlock felt himself somewhat relax being so near, his tense muscles uncoiled as he tried his hardest not to let himself be taken over by his emotions, the things he wanted to believe he had control over. In spite of his racing thoughts, he managed to remain composed; after all he was used to being in situations that got his adrenalin rushing. However, he wasn't in a life threating situation. It was just him and Molly in the security of his flat.

He took a shallow breath before speaking. "Since you never played before, your hand should be as far up the neck as possible while still allowing your pointer finger to come down on the fingerboard." Sherlock lightly directed her small digits to the right place. "With more practice you'll learn to glide your hand up and down to reach higher notes quickly."

She felt his arms slowly come around her and in that moment, she felt the safest she had felt in so long it made her want to stay this way. It was as if she couldn't get enough, not of his eyes, of his voice, of his words, of his laughter, of his touch. Her cheeks were stained a bright red causing her to stutter, affecting her ability to keep her voice level. "W-Who knew there were so many wrong ways to hold a violin?"

"It's a lot more complicated than it looks." He can't bring herself to raise his tone above a low murmur. When he released his hold, she turned her head the slightest amount. It was then he realized how close they actually were. A sudden thought flashed through his mind, he faintly pondered what it'd be like to kiss her, if she'd even allow it.

The deep pounding if his heart was felt and the silence of the room intensified the sound. If he noticed and paid attention to every move he made toward her, he would have made sure to keep a certain amount of distance, but concentration soon became a lost concept when Molly was around. He took a small breath, all of it was too much, and yet, in contraction, not enough.

Forcing himself to take a step back, he remained quiet. Kissing her had never crossed his mind in the past. Was it being so near to her face that caused it? Either way, it was another thing that would continue to nag at him now. The best thing to do was act like nothing happened, pretend like he wasn't starting to feel something more for her, because he came to a quick consensus that, based on the past few days, he was.

Sherlock brought his hands together, putting some more distance prior to speaking. "Now when it comes to actually playing the strings, the flat side of the bow should be placed on the hair approximately halfway between the bridge and the fingerboard, so that it's directly over the front. Then you just pull the bow along the string as straight as you can, parallel to the bridge, applying a small amount of pressure."

Molly gave a slight nod, barely able to bring herself out of what happened. The way a simple step forward caused such a response from him, the fact that she caught it even though it was so subtle, like a simple parting of his lips or look in his eyes, made her change her mind about saying a word about it, resisting until he wanted otherwise, which she knew in every possible way would never happen. But she cared too much about him to ask, the brunette didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable. She received the message a long time ago, Sherlock wasn't interested in her. His work was what he dedicated himself to.

Regardless of how she felt and since she was pretty good at ignoring her feelings by now, Molly did as he said and dragged the bow across the strings. The sound was a bit strained, triggering a small frown to appear on her face. "That was really awful. You can obviously tell I never played before." She pressed her lips together, stopping herself from going on a nervous ramble.

Once he settled back down, Sherlock was able to at least maintain his normal way of speaking. "Just lighten up a bit and go slower. It's not like you have to get it right the first time you try. Not everyone is a prodigy," he added to try and lighten up the situation. He could see it on her expression, from the way she was looking at him, she felt something as well.

"And you were?" she asked almost warily. In all likelihood he probably was. "You're pretty much good at everything, so I wouldn't be surprised." She didn't technically mean to say that out loud, but she knew he wouldn't take it offensively, not when it was such a light comment. Holding back the need to say anything further, she glanced in his direction.

"Well, I wouldn't say everything," Sherlock replied with a suppressed smile. "You seem more suitable for the work you do at the morgue, not that you can't do other things…" Noticing the slight fumble of his words, he paused, letting a few seconds of silence pass before continuing. "That probably could have come out better. I'm sure you'll get better with practice."

She shook her head, waving a hand at him. "Oh no, really, that was… nice. Though I guarantee you I won't be anywhere near your level anytime soon." She turned away and pursed her lips. Talking to him wasn't the difficult part. It was strange how things could feel so settled between them. She knew a few years back all he needed from her was access to bodies and spare parts if an experiment was essential.

Over time things changed, although seeming insignificant at the start. He came to her when he required help, although he kind of expected it without asking. There were a few times he would randomly show up in her bedroom, using it as one of his places to think. Molly didn't mind, he just surprised her the first time. She never really bothered him when he was there, understanding that he was working on a case.

It was even less often that he came over because he needed to rest, but she had stumbled upon him fast asleep on multiple occurrences. It was never something they talked about or even mentioned, but she was happy she was one of the people he trusted. Molly only felt like she didn't count because he would act rather dismissive towards her and a bit rude. She always felt so small in that big world of his.

Still, her feelings never disappeared. Sherlock's two year absence apparently didn't do anything to make them fade away. The moment he showed up at Bart's it felt like no gap existed, like he wasn't gone. But she moved on with Tom or at least she supposed she did. Her heart still ached on the thought of hurting him. She honestly didn't mean to and the fact that he let her go so she could be happy was the most painful part.

If anything, she knew Sherlock appreciated honesty. He could take the truth in stride. Molly admired him for that and so much more. But she had to wonder if he was actually aware of how she felt, he could pick up on so many things but was this one of them? And if he did notice was he ignoring them? It was hard to say, but like always, she tried not to think much of it.

"I'm sure we could go over notes and all those other things another time, it's not necessary right now to know them all. How about you give it another go, just remember to be gentle with the bow," Sherlock said after a few moments. He didn't fully understand why he was starting to trip over his words, but that was a problem for another day.

She nodded and kept trying. They continued for a while, until she was able to get a few of them correctly. Once Molly was able to keep the same amount of pressure on the strings the rest came pretty easily. She was pleasantly surprised at how patient he could be, it was a nice side of him to see, although she knew it was always there just never out in the open as it should be.

After they both decided that was good enough for today, Molly handed him the instrument and he placed it back where it belonged. "If you want to keep learning, it wouldn't be a bother. It's up to you though." It was a simple way of doing something for her after everything she's done for him in the past. It didn't exactly add up because Molly went out of her way all the time for him, but it was something. And her company was always welcomed.

Her gaze snapped to his, brows furrowed slightly as she was caught off guard by his suggestion. She searched for some sort of smile, a glint in his eyes to let her know he was teasing, joking even, only to come up short. "I-" What should she say? Obviously the brunette wanted more than anything to give a quick yes, but she remained calm despite herself. "Okay, I would like that, when you have free time of course."

He acknowledged her reply with a small smile. "It all depends on the case I'm working on. Either way, we'll figure something out." Maybe it was just a way to keep her coming over once she moved out. Weird, he never felt like he needed an incentive to see her, Molly was always at Bart's and he went there for just about anything. Sherlock shrugged it off and went back into the main room.

Molly watched his movement, wondering what it would be like to be in an actual relationship with him. Would it be similar to this or something utterly different? She wanted to ask if he ever had a girlfriend before, but it was too much of a personal thing to question him about. Besides, she could rightfully assume he never went out with someone; the detective was far too indulged in his work.

What were the chances of him suddenly wanting to date her anyway? Letting out a sigh, her gaze dropped to the floor. She could hope that someday he might change his mind but she was being too ambitious for her own good. Moreover, she couldn't wait around for him forever. But if there was the slightest bit of hope, perhaps waiting wouldn't be so bad.

She was being foolish though. Too much in love with him to believe she had no opportunity. If he ever flatly told her there was no way anything was going to happen between them, that he didn't care for her like she did for him, it might be easier to let go, but this, what they had right now just felt like a never ending loop. Molly was grateful for his friendship and his trust. Those two things were enough. And as long as he knew she'd always be there when he sought help and that was more than she could ask for.

Sherlock paused for a second, bringing his hands together, remembering what Molly said to him earlier. Although food normally slows down his thinking process, which could be bothersome, she was right. Not having a meal, or at least a whole one, for the past few days wasn't exactly the smartest move. Nonetheless, he was quite used to the lack of nutrition by now.

He took a few steps towards her, debating on whether or not to say anything. He could admit spending time with Molly like this was different than he expected. It was easy yet difficult at the same time, too contradicting to ponder about. When he caught her eyes his rational side slipped from him and he found himself speaking without being able to stop.

"I actually could go for something to eat right now. Fancy some fish and chips? At the place I mentioned before, right off of Marylebone Road," Sherlock mentioned, avoiding her gaze halfway through his question. "And I hope you don't mind making a quick stop to see Lestrade on the way back, I've been meaning to speak with him since he hasn't gotten back to me yet. It would be so much simpler if he'd reply to my texts."

"The one who always gives you extra portions just because you put up some shelves for the owner? Since we didn't go the last time you offered, sure," Molly replied, knowing it would probably be a fast stop but she didn't care all that much. "I haven't seen Greg in a while, so it would be nice to catch up," she added for good measure. They haven't really spoken much since John and Mary's wedding, only a few words here and there were exchanged.

"Might as well head out now," Sherlock said while grabbing his coat and scarf. Once they were on in his normal fashion they left the flat. Leaving like this was probably more of an excuse than anything else. Being alone with her was proving to be more problematic than he originally anticipated. Having other people around might clear away some of the unease.

If it didn't then he still had a couple of problems to figure out. It would be better if he could just drop all the emotions that were clouding his judgment. One way or another he had to do something about this. Maybe somehow figure out a way to make things go back to normal, when his feelings weren't running haywire every time he was with her. But what could he do? Was it even possible?

Then again he could be going about this all wrong. Perhaps the best thing to do was let it run its course and hope for the best. No, that left too many what ifs. He was rarely at a loss of what to do when a problem presented itself. Normally an answer was already there, inside his mind palace. Love, affection, romance, those were not things he kept stored. The concept and ability to see it in others, those were known but to feel them himself and so suddenly? That was something that never happened before.

"How often do you go there?" Molly asked, bringing him out of his thoughts. A cab just pulled up as she questioned him. There was something about the way he was acting that threw her off some. He was being a bit odd when around her, but she assumed it was for various reasons. The youngest Holmes wasn't exactly the easiest person to figure out, especially when he purposely distances himself.

"According to him, not enough," he automatically said back. "It's been a while so I'm sure he'll be happy to see I've brought company. John has only been there once when we were on a case close by and we had to leave soon after." He figured whatever he was going through had to be dealt with soon. Even as he sat next to her in the taxi, he could feel his senses getting the better of him.

Molly went on talking but his mind was only half listening. It was getting worse, he could tell. Every passing day something he hadn't felt before would come along and confuse him all over again. Sherlock came to the conclusion that something would have to be done; he just needed to come up with a few ideas, which would be easier to do if he wasn't drawing a blank on the matter.

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**I would just like to say I have no idea how to play the violin and had to use Google, so if I'm wrong about anything blame the internet. Other than that, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and John will finally be in the next one. I think he and Mary have been gone long enough. Please review and let me know what you thought.**


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